Theirs
by travln1
Summary: 3rd in the Mia series. Mia is a teen. Major character has a life-threatening illness that affects everyone. Some Huddy, but it's NOT the focus of this story. AU. Spoilers thru season 5. Countless thanks to my betas: Chippers87, Lucyvanflick & Wrytingtyme
1. Chapter 1

Here it is, #3 in the "Mia-verse". So far, it's at 44,000+ words and it's not finished yet. I originally started working on this in late summer, intending to submit it for the Big Bang Challenge, but just couldn't get it finished in time. Now I don't feel rushed, so I'll take my time with the ending.

Hope you enjoy. :)

Chapter 1

The small crowd sang a hearty rendition of 'Happy Birthday' to Mia when a loud voice rang out from the back of the room, "You smell like a monkey!" Mia shot a glance at her obnoxious uncle, trying hard to conceal her smile. "And you look like one too!"

Cuddy sighed deeply and smacked House on the arm as she passed him, carrying a stack of plates to the table. Mia blew out the 14 candles on the cake and stood back as her mom sliced into it. Cuddy gave Mia two large slices, both from the outside edge, as Mia's favorite part was the icing, and Mia headed towards the back of the room.

"A monkey? Couldn't you have come up with something a little more original? I'm not a little girl anymore," she said as she sat next to him on the couch.

"Buffoon?"

Mia rolled her eyes as she handed him the cake. "So, did ya get me anything?"

House bit into his cake and cocked an eyebrow, "Nah."

"Liar."

"Everybody lies."

"I don't."

"You just did."

Mia reached over and gave House a quick peck on the cheek, to which he scrunched his face up in mock disgust and used the back of his hand to wipe away her kiss. Mia smiled at him before she joined the rest of the party, eagerly digging into her own piece of cake.

_______

Wilson collected House's half uneaten cake and tossed it into a trash bag before he sat next to him. Wilson looked at his friend, nodded briefly, and turned his attention towards Mia as she began to open her gifts. As they watched her tear into the various bags and packages, he couldn't help but take a look around the room, content with what he saw. Mia was healthy and happy. Cuddy and House were not officially a couple as they once had been, but the sting of animosity was absent. Shelby sat on the far recliner as Chris, Wilson and Shelby's seven-year-old adopted son, sat on the arm rest.

Several of Mia's school friends sat on the floor near her, all of them girls; Cuddy had banned a certain young man she felt her fourteen-year-old daughter was too young to date from attending the party. Cuddy's sister, brother-in-law and their two daughters stood against the far wall and seated nearest Mia was Red, Mia's aging copper-colored poodle. Red had been a gift from House when Mia turned six years old, purposely given for the sole reason of annoying Cuddy. She had been stashed in a large box, and before Cuddy could protest, Mia had opened the box and squealed in delight at finding the wiggly puppy inside. Cuddy could not break her daughter's heart, so Red stayed. House paid for it with a lecture to a batch of new students at the hospital.

Wilson felt a surge of gratitude as he looked at the crowd, particularly at Shelby and his son. They adopted Chris about a year and a half after she moved in with him. They weren't married though, as Wilson had decided that thrice he'd tried marriage and thrice he'd failed. Instead, he and Shelby had a lifetime commitment to one another going nine years strong. Never in a million years did Wilson think such happiness could be his, particularly not after losing Amber all those years ago. And now, Wilson was a dad; he hadn't thought that possible either. Shelby was physically unable to have a child, so he'd put the idea out of his mind. A year after they'd moved in together, Wilson took on a particularly tough case; the woman was in her mid-thirties, and six months into the pregnancy, learned she had cancer. Her name was Addie, and she flat out refused to consider termination. Chris was delivered by C-section in her eighth month and Addie succumbed to cancer before he was even a month old.

A month before Addie had given birth, she'd asked Wilson if he knew what would become of her baby if she died giving birth, fearing what would become of Chris should he be placed into the bottomless pit known as foster care. He'd explained that a social worker would take charge of her baby's case, and that her child would become a ward of the state unless she had any family. Unfortunately for Addie, she didn't.

Wilson mentioned Addie's case to Shelby when Addie first came in; he didn't mention names or give details, but he did talk about how depressing some cancer cases could be. He returned home in a somber mood on the night Addie had asked what would happen to her baby. Shelby asked him, encouraged him to talk about it and when she learned what Addie feared, they sat quietly together, Shelby in tears and Wilson on the verge. Very quietly, he'd suggested that they would make good parents. Shelby reminded him that he knew the likelihood of her own cancer returning and he simply told her that they both needed to live life, regardless of how much time they had left. Two days later, Wilson introduced Shelby to Addie and three days after that, legal papers were drawn. Addie passed away knowing her son would grow up with two loving parents.

As Wilson sat at Mia's birthday party, he looked at his friend, completely gray now with age, and marveled at how well behaved House had been at the party, well with the exception of the annoying birthday song. Cuddy perched atop the edge of the couch, resting her hand on House's shoulder and Wilson again felt nearly overwhelmed by how fulfilled life was at that moment.

"You're pathetic," House said gruffly.

"Am not," Wilson insisted.

Cuddy passed House a box of tissues and House passed one to Wilson saying, "Have some dignity; you're sniveling worse than Cuddy."

Wilson smirked as he accepted the tissue. "And what do you call acting almost civil to everyone here?"

"Hey, no name calling. I'm getting too old to be the life of the party."

Wilson stood from the couch, "You coming over for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Will the brat be there?"

"Chris is always there and he's not a brat."

"Yeah, I guess, but don't expect me to eat meatloaf."

"Fine, you can watch us eat."

"As long as I don't have to sit next to the brat."

Wilson shook his head, "Fine, sit next to Shelby. You know how she likes to hug you every time you complain about her cooking."

House shut his mouth, thinking for a bit. "I'll sit next to the brat."

"Thought so." Wilson chuckled at the conversation. It was the exact same conversation they'd had every Saturday since House began meeting them for Sunday dinners more than a year earlier.

_House had a string of extremely difficult cases which led to long hours, poor sleeping habits and even worse eating habits. Cuddy and Wilson had noticed a drop in weight as House had lost two consecutive patients; his snark became unbearable and House balked at taking Mia to her weekly piano lessons, something he never refused to do. Cuddy and Wilson both decided that they would each take him in for one meal a week, if for no other reason but to keep an eye on him, and ensure he ate something that didn't come stuffed into a paper wrapper or a Styrofoam box. House naturally refused._

_The first Monday following the first missed Sunday dinner, Wilson brought in a cellophane-covered bowl filled with homemade chili, and a large chunk of fresh cornbread on the side. Under the guise that it was Wilson's lunch, Wilson had made a big show of complaining when House reached over to steal a few bites._

"_Mmph, good choli," House said with a mouth full. "Since when did the cafeteria get someone who can cook?"_

"_Not from the cafeteria," Wilson said, taking a large bite out of the cornbread, "Shelby's a great cook."_

_House snatched the remaining cornbread from Wilson, shoved a large piece of it into his mouth and stared Wilson in the eye. After downing most of Wilson's Coke he said, "What's for dinner next week?"_

_He'd sat stock still the first time Shelby hugged him after he complained about her cooking. She knew, along with everyone else at the table, that he was enjoying every bite of the roasted pork, scalloped potatoes and even the asparagus she'd made and instead of allowing him to insult her in her home, Shelby decided to do something she knew he'd hate. She hugged him. And she repeatedly hugged him for every insult he made about her cooking, her dress, Chris' haircut, the new curtains in the living room, Wilson's acceptance as Associate Dean at PPTH, and any other complaint House made in her presence. House stopped complaining in front of Shelby. _

_________

_A few weeks later, Mia showed up at House's office, something she didn't do as often as she had when she was younger. In part, she wasn't the hyper little girl whose life revolved around her family; and in part, because her mother forbade her from bothering House during work hours. She was old enough now to call him or wait until work was over. _

_Mia was a good student, still attending Synergy. At the time, she was midway through her ninth grade year, in the midst of her first crush and fiercely independent; she didn't go running to her mother or to House for every little issue. Instead, she chose to work through her problems, usually fairly competently, too. If she needed help, she asked for it, probably as the result of a hardworking mother who was not always available when a problem presented itself. And when the problem concerned her mother, Mia turned to House, who was a crap shoot in the advice department; he either caved and cajoled her mother into allowing Mia to whatever it was she wanted, or he sided with her mother, leaving Mia feeling resentful towards both of them. He sided with Mia more often than not._

_Regardless of his advice, Mia and House were still an unexplainable pair. She trusted him implicitly, and unlike the way he acted around Chris, House seemed to actually enjoy her company. She only took piano lessons because of her love for House, though he was unaware of it. She knew he enjoyed listening to her play, and she enjoyed the time they spent traveling to and from lessons, but she didn't really care about playing the piano. She didn't have the heart to tell House that. She could play, but she was far from a prodigy and Juilliard was most certainly not in her future. Mia had developed a love of animals, particularly upon receiving Red, and she had her mind set: she wanted to be a veterinarian. Her mother encouraged it and House, of course, brushed her off, insisting she'd change her mind when the wind changed. The wind hadn't changed for six years, however._

_House looked up from his desk to find Mia waiting patiently for him to look at her._

"_You have a problem?" House asked._

_Mia shrugged, clearly upset. "I saw Chris at school this morning."_

"_So."_

"_He said you've been going to Uncle Jimmy's and Aunt Shelby's for dinner every Sunday for the past month."_

"_Wilson made me go."_

_Mia sat down opposite House and fumbled with her hands as she drummed up enough courage to ask her next question. "Do you love Chris more than me?"_

_House stared at her, somewhat surprised by her question. Trying to brush it off, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What is this? Second grade?"_

"_I know Mom invited you to dinner every Thursday night after my piano lesson, but you said no."_

"_It had nothing to do with you," he sighed._

_Mia sat quietly for several minutes, not looking up at her beloved uncle, as House pretended to read his medical journal. He hated to disappoint her, but he was in no mood for the 'You love him more than me' bit. They both knew House was as close to a father as Mia would ever have. They were also both very much aware that House treated Chris as his nephew and nothing more._

_And being so close to House had caused Mia to pick up some of his more colorful tendencies, including manipulation. She went in for the kill. "I quit piano."_

_House clenched his jaw as he continued to stare blankly at the medical journal in front of him. He denied the ache in his heart, and feigned disinterest. "It's your choice."_

_Heartbroken, Mia nodded. She stood and left House sitting at his desk, without saying another word._

_________

_Cuddy stopped him on his way home that evening. "Mia's in a foul mood. Said she was done with piano."_

"_Yep," he admitted, though he limped on towards the exit as if it was no big deal._

_Cuddy reached a hand out and stopped him by grabbing his arm. "You can't do this, House."_

"_All because I don't want you and Wilson trying to shove food in my face twice a week?"_

"_God forgive us for caring."_

"_God's got nothing to do with it."_

"_She's legally your daughter. You wanted her, remember?"_

"_In name only, remember?" he asked, mocking her tone of voice._

_Cuddy looked him in the eye, "Don't ruin the one good thing in your life. It'll break her." She let go of his arm, turned on her heel and left House to ponder her words. _

_After several days of grumbling, coupled with a healthy dose of self-loathing, House showed up at Cuddy's on Thursday for dinner. Mia resumed her piano lessons the following week with House acting as her chauffeur and the scene had repeated itself every week for the past year._

_______

"House," Wilson said, giving him a nudge, "House, wake up. Mia only has two presents left."

He opened one eye and sighed, "And you woke me because?"

"One of the gifts is from you."

"I already know what I got her."

Wilson sighed, "Just pretend to open your eyes, would you?"

Mia opened a gift from one of her friends, smiling and thanking her friend for the bath accessories and make-up. She wasn't really into make-up, nor the bath salts and lotion, but she hid it well and acted graciously towards her friend. And then she opened the gift she'd saved for last. The most anticipated gift. House's gift.

Each year, House had given Mia a rather extraordinary gift for her birthday. He didn't really make an effort during the winter holidays, but he splurged on her birthday. At first, it annoyed Cuddy that he had out-gifted her, but it had been Wilson who had convinced her to think differently.

"_A puppy. A puppy! He didn't even ask if it was okay!" she complained the day after Mia's sixth birthday. _

_Wilson sat in her office, quietly taking in her frustration and when he thought she was finished with her rant, he hesitantly gave his perspective on the matter._

"_He's not doing it to one up you, Cuddy."_

"_Isn't he?"_

"_Maybe on the surface it seems that way, but I don't think so."_

"_Oh really?" she asked, doubtfully._

"_He views her as his."_

"_But she's not," Cuddy insisted, though she knew it was a lie. House had legally adopted Mia, but that fact was a guarded secret, kept even from trusty old Wilson. And in that moment, it dawned on her that Wilson was right, despite not knowing that Mia was legally House's daughter._

"_Does it matter? Those two have been attached at the hip since day one."_

_She nodded slowly, "True."_

_So Cuddy forgave whatever outrageous gift House had bestowed upon Mia each year, including Red, who turned out to be a very sweet and much loved member of the family. The following year he jokingly suggested he would get her a pony and Cuddy sighed in relief when Mia's present actually turned out to be the ballet lessons she had refused to pay for only the week prior._

_______

"Uncle House!" Mia shouted as she rushed to up to him, kissing him without caring what anyone else thought.

House tried to block her with his hands to no avail. Mia hugged him anyway, thanking him repeatedly.

"Does this mean what I think it does?"

"You can read, right?" he asked.

"Mom!"

Trying to see what was in the envelope that Mia held, Cuddy asked, "So, what is it?" She held her breath, almost afraid of what the gift might be.

"Tickets to see Sasha in concert…in New York!"

All the girls in the room burst into squeals upon hearing Sasha's name, a Russian rocker with a rather seedy reputation who spouted lyrics most parents cringed at. He was also drop-dead gorgeous.

Cuddy shot House an angry look, "I told her no."

He shrugged, "It's her birthday gift. You can't say no."

"It's in New York."

"That's why there are two tickets." He brushed her off as if it wasn't a big deal, "She won't be going alone. I'm taking her for the weekend and we've got hotel reservations for that night in the city. She'll be fine."

"It's a school night."

"She can play hooky for two days. Builds character."

Sarah, Mia's best friend, blurted out, "Your uncle is the coolest ever!" All of Mia's friends agreed, despite Cuddy's disapproval.

Mia looked at Sarah with happy eyes, "I know!"

As Mia returned to show off the prized concert tickets, Wilson shook his head and stood, not wanting to be dragged into the inevitable argument House and Cuddy were bound to have. As he reached to pick up his soda, Wilson winced, grasping his left arm. House furrowed his brow, having seen the mark of pain on his friend's face.

"That arm should have healed by now."

"It's fine, I pulled it again last night."

"You're no spring chicken; you should have it looked at."

"Oh that's rich," Wilson scowled, "This coming from the man who tries to self-diagnose before admitting he needs help." Wilson paused before smirking, "And I'm not the one with the AARP card."

"Yet."

"Arm's fine."

"Just don't come running to me when they need to amputate."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The pair would have continued had it not been for Chris running over and hugging his dad. House pursed his lips, closed his eyes and rested his head against the couch. "Wake me up when it's time to go."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reading & for the reviews!

Chapter 2

House pulled up to the front façade of Mia's school, just behind a large delivery truck. He leaned his head back against the headrest, exhausted and grateful for the once a week opportunity to leave work early. He couldn't help himself from staring at the young man who stood with his back facing House; the young student stood lip-locked with a young girl. A girl with long, black hair. A young girl that looked an awful lot like…. A red-hot surge of fury grew from his stomach at the sight of his fourteen-year-old niece. His Mia. His _daughter_. Who the hell did that sandy-haired, lanky, entirely-too-old-to-be-kissing-a-freshman jock think he was, kissing Mia like that? And in front of the school for the whole world to see.

Certain everyone could actually see the steam pouring from his ears, House revved the engine, pulled up alongside the oblivious, smooching pair, and stepped out of the car. He raised his cane high above both students' heads and brought it down so that it rested horizontally, at eye level between the two. For a fraction of a second, he saw Mia's eyes cross as she stared at the cane. It was then that he hollered, "Mia Cuddy!" as loud as he could muster.

The pair nearly toppled over in fright, each gasping for air as they broke free of one another. Mia turned about twelve shades of red, grabbed her book bag and scrambled to the car. House towered above the boy, twirling his cane menacingly, "How old are you?" he asked.

"Seventeen."

"She's fourteen. You do know that when you turn eighteen, if you so much as look at her funny, you'd be brought up on statutory rape charges, right?"

"I, uh…" the boy stammered. "I'm sorry Mr. Cuddy."

That did it, House raised the cane and brought it down with a thump onto the pavement. "Don't think I won't use this cane. Touch her again and I will be your worst nightmare."

Without another word, House got into the car, started the engine and as he shot Mia an angered look, he took off. They didn't speak for the entire ride to her piano lesson.

_______

House chose to sit in the car, resting his eyes, while Mia took her lesson; he was too wound up and exhausted at the same time to remotely enjoy it. When Mia again entered the car, he held his tongue initially, afraid of what might come out of his mouth.

When House thought he had calmed down enough, he asked, "Who's the over-eager gonad?"

Still not looking at him, Mia whispered, "Kyle."

"I forbid you from seeing him."

Mia looked sharply at House, "You can't tell me what to do."

"No? Your mother can. Is that the same Carl who was banned from your birthday?"

"Kyle. He couldn't come anyway."

House nodded. For once, he and Cuddy would stand strong on this issue, he was sure of it.

Knowing House would go straight to her mother with the news, she tried to soften him up. "Why don't you call me Smiagle anymore?"

"You hate it."

"What's the real reason?"

"You grew up."

Mia nodded, "Oh."

"What's for dinner tonight?"

"Your favorite, Chinese take-out."

"I thought your mom was cooking?" House asked, sounding disappointed. Mia knew he wasn't.

"Uh-uh. She had to work late."

House pulled into Cuddy's driveway and the pair walked in through the garage. House not only had a key, but a garage door opener as well. Years earlier, Cuddy finally decided to just give them to him after finding him repeatedly staring at a sleeping baby Mia. He could get in without a key, so she thought he may as well have one.

"Hey," Cuddy greeted them as she unpacked the food from the bag.

Grabbing an egg roll and stuffing it into his mouth, House mumbled, "Mia's got a boyfriend. She had her tongue half way down his throat when I drove up."

"Uncle House!"

Cuddy looked sternly at Mia, "You're not allowed to date until you're sixteen. You know that. Not that Kyle again?"

"It's not like we're getting married," Mia whined.

"Mia Rose Cuddy, you know the rules in this house."

Mia's temper flared, "You had to ruin everything!" She punched House in the shoulder, causing him to stumble a few steps backwards, not expecting the light blow.

"Mia Rose, you get back here and apologize to House!"

"No. I don't have to!" Mia hollered from the hallway. She glared at Cuddy, "You're not my real mother!" Before Cuddy could say another word, Mia stormed off, slamming her bedroom door with enough force that a picture hanging in the hall fell from its perch.

Cuddy sat down at the kitchen table and placed her head in her hands, on the verge of tears. She looked up at House and shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into her lately." She looked at his leg, "Are you okay?"

For the second time that night, Cuddy was glared at. "Sorry, force of habit."

House sat down and spooned some rice onto his plate before he said, "She'll get over it. If she's not out here in five minutes, I'll drag her out here."

"Good luck. Chances are if you go into her bedroom, you might find a scene straight out of the Exorcist."

House chuckled, "That bad?"

"Bad enough that I've actually considered converting to Catholicism, just in case she might need an exorcism."

"The 'not her real mother' bit is new."

"Just wait, I'm sure she'll pull the 'you're not my father' bit on you, too."

"Can't wait."

Cuddy sat down opposite him and loaded her plate with the vegetable stir fry and steamed rice. She looked at House a bit concerned, "You're going to eat more than that, aren't you?"

He stuffed a spoonful of rice into his mouth and mumbled, "Are you monitoring how much I eat now?"

"Well, no, but you usually eat more than an egg roll and a spoonful of rice."

"Had a candy bar while Mia was at piano."

She frowned, "You knew you were coming here."

He shrugged and instead of answering her, House stood and headed for Mia's room. "I'll get the demon child." He'd rather Cuddy yell at Mia than at himself.

_______

House made his way upstairs, one step at a time until he finally reached the hall. Cuddy had finally allowed Mia the large attic space to use as her bedroom a year earlier, much to House's disappointment. He hated stairs. Mia's old bedroom was now the guest room, and though he hated to admit it, he knew Cuddy had given Mia the attic so that House could crash in the downstairs guestroom on occasion. Without knocking, House entered Mia's bedroom and found her face down on the bed.

"Should I check your closets for monsters?"

"No. The monster just walked into the room. Get out."

"No."

"I don't want you here."

"Tough. Stop your tantrum and go eat your dinner."

"You can't tell me what to do. You're not my father."

House couldn't help but chuckle. Ah the joys of hormonal youth. "Fine, I'm going home then."

Mia continued to pout face down on her bed. Hose waited a few moments longer and then walked back to the kitchen, where he found Cuddy playing with the food on her plate.

"Call in a priest, she's possessed," he said, resuming his seat at the table.

"Great."

"I think I'll go home."

"We need to talk about the concert, House."

"No, we don't."

"You're worse than she…." Cuddy stopped abruptly as Mia walked into the kitchen, sat herself down at the kitchen table and helped herself to the Chinese food. She said nothing, keeping her eyes strictly on her own plate.

"Glad you could join us," Cuddy said tartly. Mia remained silent.

"Well, if you won't talk, I will," Cuddy looked at Mia as she spoke, "As of right now, you are grounded. No phone, no computer," Cuddy looked over at House, "And no concert."

"But Moooooom!" House shouted.

Mia looked at him, slightly stunned. He took the words right out of her mouth. "You can't do that!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I can and I will."

"Those tickets cost a fortune," House growled, his temper flaring.

Not letting up in her stern demeanor, Cuddy locked eyes with him, "Then you should have asked me before you bought them. You knew exactly how I felt about that concert."

"You can't do this," Mia cried.

House stood from the table, "You've gone too far, Cuddy."

"How's it feel for a change, House?"

He limped towards the door, furious with Cuddy and frustrated with Mia.

"Uncle House, you can't leave."

"Why not? I'm not your father, remember?"

"But, she won't listen to me!"

"Well, maybe if you kept your tongue to yourself and hadn't mouthed off, we'd be going to that concert."

"I hate you!" Mia screamed as House slammed the door behind him. She looked at her mother, "And I hate you even more." She ran to her bedroom, sobbing, leaving Cuddy wondering if she'd made a horrible mistake.

_______


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for reading & thanks for the reviews. :)

Chapter 3

Wilson stood in the elevator early Monday morning, not quite ready to start his day. It had been a long weekend spent monitoring two of his long-term patients. One died just after midnight on Sunday, the other only an hour later, and for the first time since he chose his specialty, Wilson wondered if he could continue to work as an oncologist.

As he reached to press the fourth floor button, an all too familiar cane stopped the doors from closing completely. He smiled in greeting at his friend, only to receive a half-hearted smirk in return. Without directly looking at him, in an effort to avoid detection, Wilson observed House out of the corner of his eye, noting his friend's weight loss. It was something Wilson detected a few days prior and it was slight, almost imperceptible; it was such a minor loss, that he thought it was unlikely any of House's minions, or even Cuddy, had noticed the change. He knew something was up when House left early after hardly touching the steak and mushrooms Shelby had served the night before.

"Stop staring."

Wilson directed his gaze to the doors in front of him, "Up for lunch today?"

House feigned disinterest, "Nope, big case. No time for lunch."

Wilson's lips formed a tight line, "You're pale. Sure you're feeling okay?"

House shot him a wry, completely fake smile, "Broke in a new hooker last night; she didn't leave until after three."

Wilson raised his eyebrows with a tilt of his head, not remotely believing him. "Well, if you find the magical cure before lunch, I'll see you in the cafeteria," he said as they exited the car.

_______

House stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, berating his fellows. "Come on people, he's going to be dead if we can't come up with a diagnosis."

"Autoimmune."

"Symptoms don't fit."

Kutner walked into the conference room at that moment, shaking his head, "He's bleeding from his ear."

House placed the tip of the marker on the whiteboard, fumbled with it momentarily and the pen dropped. He cursed himself as he bent down to pick it up; no one in the room heard his whispered grunt as he reached for it. He stood up, finished writing the new symptom on the board and turned towards his team.

"Well?"

"We should re-run the tox screen," Brindle suggested.

"And a head CT," Cameron contributed.

House nodded, "If you need me, I've got a consult in the clinic."

The trio walked out, leaving Foreman behind with House. House set the marker down and headed out the door; Foreman followed, intending to catch up to the other fellows. House turned in the opposite direction.

"Hey, where are you going?"

House shot him a smirk, and in a childish whine he said, "But teacher, I have to go wee-wee."

Foreman rolled his eyes, "You were just in there not even an hour ago."

"Well," he said in a mocking tone, "I don't have to go number two _now_."

Foreman shook his head, "TMI, House."

_______

House opted not to use a urinal, instead performing his own basic diagnostic test in a closed stall. He stared down into the porcelain bowl, frowning at the reddish hue. _Shit. Damn. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Definitely not good._

He could no longer blame the lower back pain on his prolonged work day, pushing the sofa an inch, or lifting heavy objects. Lower-back pain, red urine and weight loss left the nephrologist with one option. Self diagnosis.

He made his way to the clinic, shushed the newest nurse on staff as she tried to shove a patient file at him, and headed into one of the empty exam rooms. House quickly and deftly drew two vials of his own blood, labeled them as 'Brock Sterling', and tossed them into a plastic bag. As he reached to remove the tourniquet, the door to the clinic exam room swung open forcefully and an oblivious Kutner walked in, coming to an abrupt halt.

"House?" he asked, alarmed to find his boss sitting in front of a table with two vials of blood that were clearly his own.

House sighed and rolled his eyes, "Get out."

"I uh…the patient's responding to the broad spectrum antibiotics. We found an infected gash on his head when we did the CT. And the patient finally confirmed he's an epileptic. Looks like it's just staph; Lynne's running the labs now."

"What part of 'get out', don't you understand?"

"Oh. Right," Kutner headed towards the door but turned just before he reached it, "You okay?"

"Routine blood work; Cuddy demands I submit to random tox screens; you know, opiate junkie and all," House said, aiming for sarcasm but missing the mark with a surly tone.

"Okay," Kutner said uneasily. He hurried out, being sure to shut the door firmly behind him.

_______

House made his fourth trip to the restroom since he arrived at work. As he washed his hands, he began to run through all the possibilities, mentally drawing up a whiteboard. He listed his symptoms on the imaginary board, keeping a tally of the most likely diagnoses.

He avoided Wilson that morning, knowing that he already suspected something was up. _Dammit if Wilson wasn't too smart for his own good_. With his back killing him, House spent the remainder of his morning in his office chair, feet on the ottoman, classical music softly playing in the background. _Fatigue, need to add that to the list_, he thought.

_______

At noon, House made his way to the cafeteria and found Wilson waiting near the hot foods counter, turkey sandwich in hand.

"Hey, so what're you having? I'm buying."

"That's not how it works. I'm supposed to steal half your lunch."

Wilson sighed, though secretly he hoped House would steal half his lunch, "Thought you liked Reubens more than turkey."

House eyed him suspiciously, "Are you trying to get me to eat?"

Wilson tried his best not to look guilty, "No, celebrating a good morning," he lied.

"Why? Find a cure for cancer?"

"Nope."

"What then?"

"No one's died in the last, oh, 11 hours in oncology."

House averted his eyes, mind wandering momentarily; it did not go unnoticed by Wilson. House brought his attention back to his friend, "Fine, no pickles."

Wilson knew him well, and without a doubt, he knew House was hiding something and he had a growing suspicion that there was something medically wrong. "I know, I know, god forbid if there be pickles in the Great One's Reuben," Wilson said, with as much mirth as he could muster, though not feeling an ounce of it.

The pair sat at their usual table and ate in silence. House ate a quarter of his sandwich and stopped abruptly.

Wilson eyed him, "Are you gonna finish that?"

House shook his head, "Big breakfast. I'll eat it later." Wilson nodded, not believing a single word of it.

He'd had enough. Wilson put his sandwich down, placed both palms down on the table top, shoulder width apart and leaned in to stare directly at House, "You've lost weight, your back's bothering you and you're pale as a ghost. Stomach, liver or kidneys?"

House pursed his lips, "Getting over the stomach flu. I'm fine."

Wilson shook his head, frustrated with the lies. He stood and leaned over the table, demanding that House not look away. "When you're ready to talk, I'm here. Whatever this is, don't let it get to the point that we can't deal with it."

House made a show of rolling his eyes and brushed off the comment flippantly. "Oh Jimmy, my hero. I'll let you know if the stomach flu turns into a virulent, drug-resistant super bug. Until then, go hug some cancer kids."

Wilson stood up straight, snatched the bag of unopened chips from House's tray and said, "Well, since you won't be eating these, don't mind if I do," and left House to stare at both of their uneaten sandwiches.

_______

Hoping House would avoid work like he normally did, Wilson made his way to the lab. He politely greeted the tech, made a quick scan of the area to be sure the two were alone and then proceeded to question the technician.

"Can I help you Dr. Wilson?"

"I'm just checking on Dr. Greg House's results."

"Dr. House?"

"Yes, I'm his attending."

"Let me check," the lab tech searched the computer files before looking up at Wilson, "I'm sorry, but no tests have been sent in for Dr. House."

"Oh, well maybe he hasn't had his blood drawn yet today. Thank you."

"No problem," she said with a smile.

Wilson turned on his heel and headed back to his office, wondering if he had perhaps overreacted. Wilson didn't notice Kutner as he stood up from behind a back counter after having picked up a dropped read-out. Kutner was unable to wipe the look of concern from his face, nor close his mouth, as he watched Wilson walk away.

_______


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for reading & reviewing. Here's a long chapter for ya...

Chapter 4

Sunday afternoon, House sat in his office, glad he had a patient. An excuse.

"Hello?" Wilson answered.

House had the phone on speaker phone, so he wouldn't have to put down the journal he had been searching through, "Hey."

Wilson hesitated, House never called him on a Sunday. He wondered if he was okay, but he knew better than to ask. "Shelby's making chicken and rice."

"Yeah, that's what I'm calling about. Nasty case."

"You're at the hospital?"

"Yep. Girl's been revived twice already. Kutner's finally got the hang of not electrocuting himself in the process."

"So you won't be here for dinner?" Wilson asked, skeptically.

House detected the note of doubt in Wilson's voice and called out, "HEY KUTNER, HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU SHOCK THE IDIOT PATIENT?"

Kutner poked his head into House's office, "You were there," he responded, wondering if whatever House had reason to check his blood for, might be affecting his brain. "Twice."

"See Daddy, I'm being a good boy," House said in a sing-song voice.

"Thanks, Kutner," Wilson said through the speaker phone.

Realizing House was proving to Wilson that he was in fact at work, Kutner relaxed a bit and returned to the conference room, relieved that Wilson was looking out for House.

"You thought I was lying to you, didn't you?" House asked.

"I, well," Wilson stammered, "You've lost weight, House. I thought you wanted to avoid eating."

House rolled his eyes, "Stop looking for problems."

"Stop lying to me."

"Gotta go, patient dying and all," House said, hanging up the phone before Wilson could say anything more.

_______

Late that evening, Foreman reached for his jacket as Kutner took his lab coat off. House was asleep in his office, stretched out on the couch that now sat on the far wall.

Kutner motioned towards House with his thumb as he asked, "Think he's okay?"

Foreman sighed, "He's fine. He's 63 years old and he's been here since seven this morning. Let him sleep."

"Did you know Cuddy requires him to have tox screens run?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows, "No, but I'm not surprised."

_______

"Uncle House?" Mia asked when House called around seven that evening.

"You're worse than your mother."

"Aren't you coming home soon?"

"I'll be there in another hour," House said as he turned his office computer off.

"Mom left us money for dinner."

"Order a pizza, or whatever you want."

"Okay, come home soon?"

"Pack your bags."

"Huh?"

"Puh…aack…yooour…baaaagsss," House said, exaggerating each word.

"Why?"

"We're going to the concert tomorrow." House heard a very loud shriek through the phone, forcing him to hold the phone away from his ear.

"Mom said we could go?"

"Yep."

"What am I going to wear? I should have started packing a week ago!"

"Mia, it's for one night."

"But it's Sasha!! Hurry home, I'll order pizza. Bye."

House hung the phone up and checking that his team had gone home for the evening, he grabbed his cane and headed for the lab. He checked for his blood work and punched the counter when he learned the lab hadn't finished with the tests he'd ordered. Strumming his fingers on the counter of the lab's front desk, scaring the receptionist with his angered gaze, House made a decision to take matters into his own hands. He marched himself down to the clinic, double-checking that Cuddy's office was indeed vacant, though knowing she had left hours earlier to get to Boston, and turned on the lamp on the clinic's main desk to search for the keys.

The clinic was closed, but he knew a spare set of keys were kept in a lock box that his hospital ID code could access in case of emergencies. It was a security measure implemented by Cuddy after a flu outbreak years earlier. The clinic had been closed, and with the ER overflowing, panic broke out when supplies began to run low. At the time, two employees and the janitorial staff had spare keys and it took a panicking Cuddy over an hour to find someone with a spare set. The lock box was installed the following week.

Punching in his birth date and fourth floor diagnostic's code, House accessed the keys that would unlock the clinic's exam rooms. Entering one, he dragged the portable ultrasound from the corner and ensuring that the door was closed, he stretched out on the exam table. He squirted the cool gel onto his abdomen and calibrated the machine, hoping he wouldn't find the mass he knew deep down was hiding one or both of his kidneys. Straining to see the screen, his hand shook as House began the exam. He pressed down onto his abdomen and almost immediately lifted the wand away from his skin, afraid of what he might find on screen. He was not yet ready to admit that he might actually have cancer.

_______

Wilson walked out towards his car, exhausted after the long day and noticed House's car parked in its usual space. He had checked House's office on his way out, to say goodnight, but the office was dark. He wondered if House was okay and pulled out his cell phone.

"You have impeccable timing," a gruff voice answered, sounding a touch startled.

"Where are you?"

"Cuddy's. Got stuck babysitting."

"You're lying."

House hesitated. "Where are you?"

"Standing next to your car in the hospital parking lot."

House remained silent.

"What are you up to House?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on, this is me you're talking to."

"None of your business, Wilson."

Wilson pursed his lips, angry that he was getting the run around, "Fine," he said tersely. Wilson closed his cell phone, and headed back in to the hospital to search for his friend. He had clearly heard the tension and what he thought was possibly fear in House's voice. It was the fear he heard that scared him most; he hadn't heard that sound in House's voice for over a decade.

Passing through the main doors, Wilson knew the light at the clinic's front desk had most definitely not been on when he had walked by only minutes earlier. Growing more and more suspicious, Wilson walked towards the lamp and clearly saw that the lock box was open. With a growing sense of dread emanating from the pit of his stomach, Wilson placed an ear to the first exam room door. Hearing nothing, he moved on to the second and a bit of rustling sounded from the inside; he braced himself for the worst.

He opened the door slowly, knowing in his heart he'd find House in the exam room. Wilson's own heart dropped upon finding House sprawled out on the exam table, attempting to give himself an ultrasound. House looked up, threw his head back to rest on the table and sighed loudly, frustrated at having been discovered.

"Well, the good news is I'm not pregnant," House said, not looking him in the eye.

Wilson closed the door behind him and walked over to the table, silently. Tucking his chin, and glaring at House with a mixture of anger and worry, he wordlessly took the wand from House and began to search the ultrasound screen for any abnormalities. House said nothing, instead closing his eyes to allow Wilson to perform the procedure, almost grateful that he no longer had to hide his secret from his friend.

He performed a thorough exam, searching both kidneys and the liver. The left kidney was fine, no abnormalities, as was the liver. The right kidney however, had an extremely large mass.

"How bad?"

Wilson exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. Before he could respond, House opened his eyes and looked at the screen. He sighed deeply as he again rested his head on the table with a mirthless laugh. "Well, if there is a god, I bet he's laughing right now."

"How long have you been in pain?"

"Too long."

"Blood in the urine?"

"Yep."

Wilson shook his head, "I should have seen it sooner."

"I have to go; Mia's waiting," House said as he sat up.

"Where's Cuddy?"

"Emergency conference."

"I can stay with Mia if you'd rather-"

"No, concert's tomorrow."

"House, we need to do a biopsy, run tests, start treatment. We need to get a CT, make sure it hasn't spread."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," he said flippantly.

"You need to take care of this; you can't ignore this."

"Concert. Mia. Some young rocker wannabe with high cheekbones named Sasha."

Wilson relented, "Promise me. Promise me that on Thursday, we will run the tests before work starts. No one needs to know."

"Want me to pinky swear and everything?" House said sarcastically as he stood. Wilson helped him up by the elbow and House jerked his arm free, shooting him a warning glance.

Wilson printed the ultrasound picture and tucked it into his pocket, trying to find the words that would comfort his long time friend without offending his intelligence. He couldn't find any. "Cuddy's going to…"

House cut him off, "No, Cuddy's not going to do anything because she's not going to find out. Doctor-patient privilege," House said, staring at Wilson intensely. "She can't know."

"You can't hide this from her."

"Nope, not Cuddy, not Shelby, sure as hell not Mia, not my team. My business, no one else's. You wouldn't have known either if you hadn't stuck your damned nose in the door."

Unable to deny him his right to privacy, Wilson nodded curtly. "We'll get through this. We don't even know if it's cancerous or not. Maybe it's benign, some kind of..."

"Don't patronize me, Wilson." House closed his eyes and tried to keep everything he knew about medicine from running through his brain.

"There are treatments, protocols, cancer trials. We'll find something." Wilson looked on at his friend, unable to keep the tears from welling up in his dark brown eyes, and knowing he couldn't keep his voice from faltering, Wilson put the ultrasound cart away, busying himself with ensuring it was properly cleaned as House sat up. They walked out to the parking lot together, in silence.

_______

House walked in to the nauseating smell of pizza and to a certain teenager who was fluttering about the house in anxious anticipation. Her joy made House smile for the briefest of moments.

"Uncle House! So, what time do we go? Do you think I'll need more than three outfits? What about binoculars? Should we bring some? I've got the tickets packed, Mom left a bag for you that's stuffed with your clothes, and Uncle Wilson's going to watch Red for me while we're gone." Mia rattled off a dozen more things, bursting with excitement.

House sat in the living room recliner and put his feet up, "You should get to bed, it's late. We'll leave about ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Mia stopped and looked at him, concern crossing her youthful features. House wondered if she looked more like her birthmother, or her birthfather. He didn't know. He made a mental note to dig up the file Cuddy kept with Mia's birth information, so that he could look at the few pictures of Mia's birthparents that Cuddy had managed to secure.

"Uncle House?"

"Don't ask. I'm just tired. Go on, get to bed."

"Okay. I put the leftover pizza in the fridge if you want some." Sensing something was up, but not wanting to push, Mia placed a quick peck on her uncle's cheek and much to her surprise, he kissed the top of her forehead before she pulled away.

She studied him, thinking that perhaps his patient had died that day. "Love you."

"Bed."

She smiled at him before turning towards the hallway.

House kicked his shoes off, went into Cuddy's bedroom and shut the door, pulled out a spare t-shirt from the bottom drawer and headed into the bathroom. He'd kept several older t-shirts, several pairs of boxers and two pairs of jeans at Cuddy's for nights when Cuddy had to stay at the hospital or when she was away at a conference.

He ran a hot shower and stood under the faucet for as long as his leg would allow. When he was finished, he dressed in the clean t-shirt and boxers, climbed into Cuddy's unmade bed and pulled the comforter up to his chin. Smelling Cuddy on the pillow next to him, House closed his eyes and wished she was there with him; he wished he could tell her. More than anything else, he wished he could let go of that self-crippling hatred of being touched, instead wishing that just for once, he could allow her to hold him, comfort him. But that was not his way, and he stubbornly turned his cheek away from the heavily scented pillow and fell into a restless sleep.

_______


	5. Chapter 5

Up to chapter 5 already! And this one's a doozie. Thanks for reading and reviewing (and leaving non-review-reviews :), I appreciate all of your comments! I don't know what's up with the word count. It never matches what Word says. Usually it's more, this time it's a little less. Go figure.

Chapter 5

House woke to an overly-excited fourteen-year-old running into Cuddy's bedroom and jumping on the empty side of the bed.

"It's too early, go back to bed," he grumbled.

"It's nine o'clock. You said we'd leave at ten. Get up!" she said, now standing on the bedside next to him, trying to pull him up by the hand.

"Wake me up in 45 minutes."

Her shoulders drooped just a little, "Uncle House!"

Sighing, he opened one eye to look at her, "Go get ready, I'll be out in a little while."

"Okay!"

House began to seriously wonder if he had been out of his mind when he purchased the concert tickets.

_______

Two mochas and two egg muffins and greasy hash browns later, Mia was singing at the top of her lungs to Queen's "We Will Rock You" as they drove closer and closer to New York City. House occasionally joined in, but had more fun watching her relax and let loose. When the song ended, Mia giggled and House couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, enough of those oldies. Can I put in Sasha's album now?"

House rolled his eyes, "Oldies!" House put on an elderly, southern type accent, "You young whipper-snappers have no respect!" Mia chuckled as he continued, "I have to listen to him all night, isn't that enough?"

"No!" Without waiting for an answer, Mia put Sasha's music in and cranked up the volume. Out spewed the worst screeching House had likely ever heard.

"Sounds like someone's dipping a cat into a vat of hot oil."

"No he doesn't!" Mia tried to defend her beloved rock star.

House reached for the volume control and turned the noise down. "Tell me about school."

Mia shrugged, "It's the same. Mrs. Waverly assigned a big interview project. She gave us a list of three things to choose from. One is to create a family tree by interviewing family members, one is to interview a senior citizen to learn about what their life was like, and the third is to find out if two adults have a list of things they want to do before they die and then we have to create a list of our own. She called it a bucket list."

"So which one did you choose?"

Mia smirked, "I thought I could interview you for the senior citizen one."

House chuckled. "You know, looks like rain. Wouldn't want to sit through a concert in the rain."

"Uncle House!" Mia whined.

"So?"

She frowned as looked at him, "I didn't choose the family tree, since my birthparents are dead and I can't ask them about it. And I don't really want to ask an older person about their life. So I chose the bucket list one. Can I interview you for it?"

"I don't have a bucket list."

Mia sighed, "Oh come on, everyone has dreams."

"Not me."

"No plans, no hopes, nothing?"

"I wanted to be a doctor and I am one. That's it."

"Maybe Uncle Jimmy will help me. I'm supposed to ask two people. Mom will help, so maybe Uncle Jimmy will help too."

"His dream is to cure cancer." Mia didn't catch the slight catch in his voice as House realized what he'd said. "Fine, you can interview me, but give me some time to make something up."

Mia thought she detected a little hint of jealousy from her uncle and knew he'd help her just so she wouldn't go to Wilson instead of himself. She smiled genuinely. "Thanks."

"Are you talking to Cuddy yet?"

Mia looked out of the window, jaw set, not ready to give in yet. "Not really."

"You're going to the concert, aren't you?"

"She always treats me like a baby."

House rolled his eyes, "She's your mom. It's her job."

"You don't."

"I'm not your mom."

Mia chuckled, "Good thing, you'd look pretty funny in one of her skirts."

"Hey, I've got great looking ankles."

"Eeew, no."

"Have you ever seen my ankles?"

"Yes, and you have man ankles. Sorry Uncle House, but your ankles are so not sexy."

"Any more trouble with, what's her name? Sandy?"

"Sandra. No, I guess not. She was put on probation after she mouthed off to one of the teachers. I heard that if she causes any more trouble, she'll be expelled."

"She hasn't stolen anything else?"

"Nope, not since she took the money out of my bag."

"And Sarah?"

"She's at her dad's this weekend but she'll be back. Her mom said she'd take us miniature golfing or something next week."

"And Carl?"

Mia crossed her arms in front of her, refusing to look at him. "His name is Kyle."

"Still kissing him?"

"It's not your business."

"It is if you want to go to that concert tonight."

"No."

"You're lying to me."

In a huff, she brought her arms down and slapped her knees, "He's not a bad guy. He asked me to the winter formal and I said yes."

It was House's turn to set his jaw, "He's too old for you. Trust me, guys his age have only one thing on their minds."

"He's not like that, Uncle House!"

"Wanna bet?"

"No."

"When's the winter formal?"

"In two weeks."

"Tell you what, I'll bet you fifty bucks you catch him kissing a girl before the dance."

"I don't have fifty bucks."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

Hesitantly, she said, "Well no, but…"

"If you lose, you can be my date for the hospital's annual fundraiser."

"You only want me to be your date so you have an excuse to leave early."

Impressed with her astuteness, House smiled, "Do you want to go, or not?"

"I guess. Fine, it's a bet."

_______

Mia was impressed with the two-room suite House had booked. He would sleep in the bedroom, and she would take the drop down murphy bed in the living room area.

She squealed in delight, "Eeeeee…it's only two hours away!"

House was lying on top of the comforter, shoes still on and he rolled his eyes, continuing to wonder what the heck he had been thinking. "Keep screeching like that and Sasha might hire you for back-up."

"So what time are we leaving?" She asked for at least the hundredth time.

"Ask again and we're not going."

"I'm hungry."

"Here," House handed her a twenty, "Go get something from downstairs and bring me back a ginger ale." House would have normally ordered more, considering Cuddy had left them money for food, but he wasn't particularly hungry.

Her happy demeanor quickly turned to a look of concern, "Are you sick?"

"No, I just drank too much coffee this morning. Go on; hurry up before the concert starts." House closed his eyes once Mia was gone, and gratefully enjoyed his brief moment of quiet.

_______

House was certain he'd never seen Mia smile so broadly ever before; she was practically glowing. And when the lights on stage began to flash in all directions, anticipation mounted and every single girl in the amphitheater began chanting Sasha's name. The lights dimmed, leaving the stage in total darkness and with a loud boom, several bursts of pyrotechnics, and a lone spot light on the center of the stage, Sasha seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The crowd erupted in high-pitched squeals, crying and temporary loss of sanity.

Even House was surprised at the clothes Sasha had on, or rather the lack thereof. His only article of clothing was a pair of entirely too tight leather pants with sparkles and rhinestones looping up each pant leg to expose large open holes up and down the length of his legs. He was shirtless, shoeless and sported a pair of sunglasses atop his blond tresses. House had to smile at the thought that Sasha's hair looked a lot like Chase's when he was younger.

Mia continued to be excited, but House could tell from the look on her face that she too was a bit shocked by Sasha's attire. Nevertheless, she continued to scream along with everyone else, anxious for the singing to begin.

Midway through the concert, House thought he might have cured Mia's obsessive love for this Russian rock star. The music was horrendous, Sasha sang out of tune when he wasn't screaming and Mia was clearly shocked and appalled with each additional crass hand gesture, hip thrust and ass smack that Sasha seemed to find completely appropriate for an audience of mostly teenaged girls.

With a smirk, he shouted, "Having fun?"

"WHAT?"

"ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE CAT SCREECHING."

"WANT TO GO?"

"NO. THINK THERE'S A VAT OF HOT OIL BACKSTAGE?"

House laughed out loud. He nodded, motioned towards the seats behind them and promptly sat down, tired from standing for most of the concert. He no longer cared to watch the monstrosity on stage. Mia continued to jump and shout, enjoying the energy of the audience, but once in a while, she placed her fingers in her ears when the cat wailing became too much.

They left during the last song, hoping to bypass a good portion of the crowd, but it seemed half the audience had the same idea.

"Do you want a t-shirt or something?" he asked as they passed the vendors.

She stared at him and started laughing, "Are you kidding?"

He smiled back, "Yes."

"Good!"

As they approached the car, Mia looked up at her uncle, smiling brightly. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

_______

House went straight to bed as soon as they reached the hotel. Mia pulled down the murphy bed in the living room as quietly as she could, enjoying the memory of her evening. Not seeing any pillows, she walked back to the bedroom to ask House if he had a spare one she could use and as she walked in, she found him lying awkwardly on the bed. His body was rigid, his face contorted and he was breathing rapidly. As she approached, she noticed his fists were balled up tightly at his sides, and he was drenched in sweat.

"Uncle House?" she asked, as fear crept into her voice. "You're sweating," she said as she neared his bedside.

House inhaled sharply, but said nothing, instead clamping his mouth shut to avoid yelling out; he was doing his best to keep from frightening her. It wasn't working.

Mia placed her hand on his forehead and panic set in, "Oh god, you're burning up. You're really, really hot."

Through gritted teeth, he managed to grunt out, "Call Wilson."

"I'm calling an ambulance."

"No, call Wilson."

House knew the look on her face was one of abject fear, and he watched as she spiraled downwards into a panic attack. Beginning to hyperventilate, Mia ran out to the front room, grabbed her cell phone and rushed back to his side. She flipped the phone open amidst her own wheezing gasps and she closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing.

"Mia," House rasped, "Calm down." He struggled to breathe, and to maintain his composure, knowing he had to keep them both calm. "If your," he took two short breaths, "Heart acts up," he paused, as she finally looked at him, "We'll both be in trouble."

Mia grabbed for his hand as her wheezing became shallow.

"Take deep breaths," he managed to say. He was becoming worn out and his next sentence was choppy, "Purse…lips."

Mia did as he said. It took a few moments, but her breathing became more regular and Mia felt her heart calm down.

"Flip flops?" House rasped, referring to the feeling Mia would get when her heart palpitated.

"No."

"Liar."

"What do I do, Uncle House?"

House's breathing was still rapid and becoming more shallow, "Call Wils…." He was unable to finish his thought, as his body began to convulse. His eyes rolled back and his entire body twitched uncontrollably.

Mia's eyes widened in fear and she willed herself not to cry. House's body tensed and writhed and though Mia had never seen one, she was almost certain he was having a seizure.

Defying his orders, she picked up the phone. "No. I'm calling 911."


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry to leave you hanging. Okay, maybe I'm not. :) Thanks for reading & reviewing!

Chapter 6

Mia paced the room, waiting for help to answer the phone.

"911 Operator, is this an emergency?"

"Yes, my…my…my dad is having a seizure and he's got a high fever."

The next few moments would later exist only as a blur in her memory. She passed along vital information to the operator, trying to be strong for her beloved uncle. She was told that the paramedics would be there soon. Knowing she had to call Wilson, she set the hotel phone's receiver on the night stand and used her cell phone to call Wilson.

"Mia? What's wrong?" Wilson answered groggily. Mia looked at the clock, realizing she had called him well past midnight.

"Uncle House is really sick. I think he had a seizure and the paramedics are coming."

"Is he conscious?"

"The shaking stopped but he's not awake." Mia voice shook as she slowly began to let fear creep back into her thoughts.

Knowing the paramedics were on the way, the only thing Wilson could think of was getting to New York as fast as possible. "Oh honey, okay. I'm on my way. Call me back when you know what hospital they're taking him to. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Uncle Jimmy? I'm really scared."

"It's okay Mia, he'll be okay. You tell him I'm on my way. Promise me you'll tell him that."

"I promise."

"I'm going to hang up so I can get going. Call me as soon as you know which hospital."

"Okay, Uncle Jimmy."

Mia hung up the phone, looked to her now unconscious uncle and felt the rising sense of panic a second time. She shook her head, not allowing herself to lose control and she felt his forehead again. Remembering what he had done for her when she had a high fever in the fourth grade, Mia ran to the bathroom and soaked several towels in cold water. She placed the large one across his chest, and the smaller ones on his brow, neck and wrists. She then took the ice-bucket and poured its contents all over his chest.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and unable to hold it in any longer, she placed her hand to her mouth and began to cry. Her first thought was to call Cuddy, but she knew her mom was too far to do anything, and Wilson was well over an hour away. Mia suddenly felt very alone.

She picked up her cell phone, and needing someone to help keep her from panicking, she called her mom anyway. As she started dialing, fresh tears fell, and with the anticipation of speaking with her mom, Mia began to sob choking cries.

"Mommy?" She called out, before Cuddy had a chance to say hello.

Cuddy inhaled, "Are you okay?"

Mia sobbed uncontrollably, "Mommy."

Cuddy was on her feet instantly, frightened by the tone of her daughter's voice, and even more scared at having been called 'Mommy'. Mia ceased calling her that years earlier, and used it only twice since, when she was scared to death.

"Mia, sweetie, what's going on? Where are you? Where's House?"

"Mommy, he had a seizure. Uncle Jimmy's coming; he said he'd meet us at the hospital. He was just lying there and he had a fever and was sweating, and all of a sudden he just started to shake," Mia's voice broke as a fresh wave of tears wracked her body.

Her mom instantly went into doctor mode, "Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yes."

"I'll stay on the phone with you until they get there. Listen, I want you to wet some towels in cold water and place them on his forehead and cover as much of his neck and wrists as you can. And ice. Do you have ice?"

"I did already."

Cuddy sighed, "Good job, sweetie."

"What else can I do?"

"You've done all you can for now. Just love him, reassure him, tell him we'll be there. Don't leave him. Tell the paramedics that you need to ride in the ambulance with them to the hospital. I don't want you staying in that hotel by yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Mom, the paramedics are here. I have to go."

Before she could say another word, Mia was gone and Cuddy immediately logged into her computer to book the first flight to New York, afraid of losing someone she wasn't ready to let go of yet.

_______

"But, I'm supposed to go with him."

"Children aren't supposed to ride along in the ambulance."

Mia, by that point, had enough and she raised her voice, "I'm not a child and I can't just stay here alone. He's a doctor and my uncle is on his way. He's a doctor too, but he's coming from New Jersey, so he won't be here for a while. I'm supposed to keep him updated."

The paramedics looked at one another, sympathizing with the young girl. "Look," one of them started, "Are you two related?"

Without missing a beat, Mia lied. "He's my dad. You can't leave me here; I have to go with him. My mom's in Boston and my dad needs me."

The second paramedic nodded. "Fine, get in."

Mia nodded gratefully, "What hospital are we going to?"

"New York General."

_______

She had made good on her word to tell House that Wilson said he would be there. She had no idea if he could hear her or not, as he was still unconscious, but she did tell him shortly before she fell asleep; she had also held his hand and cried, prayed, paced the room and cried some more. Mia repeatedly told him she loved him and that when he woke up he'd better damned well tell her he loved her too. Swearing, though no one had heard her, was not something she did often and it gave her a little extra courage as she took on the role of loved one in a frighteningly solitary experience. Mia stayed at House's side, just as her mom had told her to do, except for a brief exam in which the emergency room staff had asked her to wait outside for. She wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but she knew Wilson had talked at length with House's ER doctor via cell phone, and that House was now on some sort of anti-seizure medication, and something to lower his fever. The sweating had eventually stopped and she thought that might have meant the fever had broken, but she wasn't sure..

Mia was now fast asleep, curled up on the chair with her legs dangling over the armrest. She had positioned the chair to face House, and she slept with her fingers interlaced with his. Her hair was disheveled, her face swollen red with dried tears; her jacket was draped over her like a blanket and her shoes sat neatly beneath her chair. Mia tried to stay awake to greet Wilson and to be there when House woke, but utter exhaustion had set in shortly after arriving at the hospital and minutes after taking her seat in the chair, Mia's eye lids became too heavy to keep open. Only hours earlier, she was having the time of her life with a man she had so often viewed as her father, and now she sat curled up, dreaming about him drowning, her arms outstretched in a futile effort to save him, but she struggled, not quite able to reach him.

_______

Wilson arrived just after three in the morning and wasted no time in getting to House's room. He quietly passed by the sleeping Mia and swiftly checked on House. He ran his own diagnostic exam, brief but necessary as far as he was concerned. This was not just any man lying in a hospital bed; this was House. He quietly reviewed the chart and when he was finished, he sat on the edge of the bed, given there was only one chair in the private room, and he placed his hand on House's shoulder, hoping he might wake at his touch. He did not.

Wilson leaned in and whispered, "Don't you dare think I'm going home alone."

His attention was then drawn to the sleeping Mia, who was clearly dreaming. Her breathing quickened moments before she woke with a start. She tried to catch her breath, and as she looked over to House, she saw Wilson and began to cry in relief. Never had she ever been so glad to see anyone in her entire life.

"Hey, hey, hey," Wilson soothed as he stood from the bed, "Come here."

He stood in front of her and she clambered out of the chair, not hesitating to wrap her arms around in him, grateful she could pass the torch of responsibility.

"You did good, Mia. Really good. You took care of him; you were here when he needed you most. He's going to be okay."

Hearing those words caused Mia to let down her guard and release the tension she'd carried for the past several hours. Again she cried tears of worry, relief and exhaustion.

Digging into his pocket, Wilson pulled out some cash and handed it to her. "Would you mind getting me a large coffee? There's a staff cafeteria on the second floor that should be open. Cream and two sugars. Get yourself whatever you want, okay?" Wilson needed to send Mia away so that he could talk with House's attending, and knowing she would do anything he asked, he thought sending her for coffee would be the best way. "Why don't you stop and wash your face first? House wouldn't want to see you so upset. Alright?"

Mia nodded, as she regained her composure. She hugged him one last time saying, "Thank God you're here, Uncle Wilson."

He smiled down at her, "As your Uncle House would say, God had nothing to do with it." He paused as he saw the slightest smile touching the corners of her mouth. "You're the reason I'm here, Mia. You're the reason he's here."

Not wanting him to see her cry again, Mia turned quickly and mumbled a quick goodbye, walking as fast as she could towards the nearest bathroom.

_______


	7. Chapter 7

As always, thanks for reading & reviewing!

Chapter 7

"We'd like to keep him an extra day."

"I understand. I'm House's medical proxy," Wilson handed the paperwork to the doctor, "And Dr. House is adamant that any question about his care be directed to me and me only." Wilson reiterated that he was House's general practitioner, as he had already informed him. Now however, he felt comfortable explaining he was also his oncologist, knowing Mia was no longer in earshot. He had withheld that information earlier, preferring to relay that tidbit in person. "I'm also his oncologist."

Dr. Revale closed his eyes in understanding, "He's scheduled for a CT scan in about an hour. The machine was down earlier, but they've got it up and running now."

"I'd like to be there when you run the scan. House is also very adamant that Dr. Cuddy, Mia's mother, not be informed of anything other than the direct treatment for the seizure. He's a very private man and has not yet let it be known that he's likely got cancer."

Dr. Revale nodded, "That's his right. I will keep his confidence, you have my word."

"Thank you."

The two doctors parted and Wilson returned to House's bedside, again speaking to him, hoping he would wake. As he was perched on the edge of the bed, giving him a running commentary about how he was sick and tired of bringing his ass back from the brink, Mia walked in.

"Trying to guilt him into waking?"

Wilson smiled, "Worth a shot."

"Forget it, I already tried."

"Well, we'll just keep on trying then, won't we?"

Mia agreed as she handed the coffee to Wilson. She was about to take a seat when her mom breezed through the doorway, looking as if she'd been crying herself, and ready to revert to emergency doctor mode.

"Mom!" Mia cried, rushing into her mom's arms. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have talked back to you; it seems so stupid now."

Cuddy shook her head, "Shhh, that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're okay and you got Uncle House to the hospital."

Still in the embrace, Cuddy looked to Wilson for answers, "What happened?"

A raspy, "Cripple trying to sleep here," startled all of them.

Mia rushed to House's side and she tucked her hand inside of his, "Are you okay?"

He sleepily gave his best glare but when she didn't give in, and knowing full well what she had done for him, he said, "Thanks to you."

Wilson stepped up beside his friend, "Did you just…thank her?"

House yawned, "Never."

Mia leaned in and whispered, "I love you."

House stared at her, saying, "Come here." She was only inches from his face, but she leaned in even closer and he whispered, "No more flip flops?"

"No," she whispered back.

"I'm never going to a Sasha concert again, so don't ask."

"Me neither," she said with a slight grin.

Wilson and Cuddy stood back, watching the whispered exchange between the two as it was inaudible to anyone other than House and Mia. Cuddy noted the look of pure admiration and relief of Mia's face and the look of what she thought was pride on House's.

"I disobeyed you," Mia whispered, hoping he wouldn't be angry.

"You took the initiative; you did the right thing."

The smile on Mia's face when she hugged him moments later was bright enough to light the room.

House looked with tired eyes between Wilson and Cuddy, confusion written across his face. "How long was I out?"

"About six hours," Wilson filled in.

"Cuddy?" House asked, clearly confused.

She walked to his bedside and placed her hand on his shoulder, "I'm here."

"I thought…Boston…what day is it?"

"My flight just got in; took a cab as soon as I got here. It's Wednesday morning." She looked to Wilson, "So, what happened?"

Wilson readied himself for the colossal lie he was about to tell. "His leg's bothered him more than usual lately, so we've been experimenting with a new regime of pain meds. Clearly the newest one isn't going to work for him." Wilson shot House an unmistakable look, meaning 'agree or else', so House nodded, all the while hating that Cuddy would pity him for his supposed leg pain, but that was far more acceptable than the alternative.

Cuddy looked at House, confusion gracing her features. "You mean the weight loss, his fatigue? He's been in that much pain?"

Wilson nodded, afraid she'd detect the lie should he try and say anything more.

She sighed in relief, "This is fixable. He's going to be okay. We can put him on morphine if we absolutely have to; anything's better than allowing him to seize." Again, Wilson silently agreed with Cuddy.

"Why don't you take Mia out to the waiting room, while I give House an exam?"

Cuddy agreed with Wilson, saying, "Mia sweetie, come lie down on the couch just outside." Exhausted, Mia nodded and allowed her mom to guide her out of the hospital room.

Wilson stood with his hands on his hips, switching somewhat from doctor mode to best friend mode. "She's not going to believe that lie when you start losing your hair, you know."

House eyed him, too tired to put up a fight. "Just run your tests so I can go back to sleep."

Wilson checked his pupil reflexes, his BP, oxygen level, basic reflexes and ran a simple neurological exam. Considering the harrowing evening, House appeared to be in fairly decent shape.

"You're scheduled for a CT soon. I'm going to have them run an MRI too, so long as we're here."

House rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that, we both know it would be much harder to get those tests done at work. We have a legit excuse here." Wilson's brow furrowed. "Any pain? Dizziness?"

"Headache, not bad though."

"That's to be expected, I think."

House smiled, "I think the headache's from the damned concert." Wilson relaxed a bit and smiled for a fleeting moment.

When Cuddy returned, it was obvious that House wouldn't be awake for much longer and before he fell asleep, he had something to say. "Mia had a panic attack at the hotel. Her heart did a few flip flops, but she lied about it."

Cuddy puffed out her cheeks with worry, "I'll take a look at her. She seems okay now."

Wilson stood and headed for the door, "I'm going to get another coffee. Do you want anything?" Cuddy shook her head and Wilson left his boss and his best friend some time alone.

Cuddy sat in the adjacent chair, "I warned you if anything happened…."

House closed his eyes, "I didn't plan this."

"When I warned you if anything should happen, I meant to either of you."

"Mia's fine. I'll be out of here tomorrow." House purposely avoided saying he was fine too. "It was just a seizure."

"House, I didn't know what caused it, if you were okay, if I'd lose you…." her voice trailed off as she tried to keep herself from crying.

"I'm not going to live forever."

"Well, I'm not ready to let you go yet."

House sighed, "Everybody dies."

"Yeah, well you have a certain young girl you need to walk down the aisle some day."

House broke her gaze, "Don't make her any promises you can't keep."

"House? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I'm 63 years old. Do you honestly think I'll be around in another 10 years?"

Confused by his melancholy, she looked at him in concern, "I certainly hope so."

Cuddy leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead; he was the one man in her life she had truly loved and the thought of not having him around wasn't something she was ready to deal with, particularly when House himself seemed so blasé about it.

She placed her hand on one side of his face and pressed her cheek against the other, gently hugging him and whispered, "I'm not ready to stop yelling at you every day at work. Do you understand me?"

She didn't get a response however, as House had fallen asleep. As she watched him, she sighed, grateful he would be okay.

_______

Wilson walked into House's room and found Cuddy lightly dozing in the chair, her fingers interlaced with House's. He shook her shoulder and when she opened her eyes, he said, "Why don't you take Mia back to the hotel and sleep?"

"What about you?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise to myself a long time ago and I don't intend to break it."

"Promise?"

Wilson stared at his shoes, "I wasn't there after the infarction and I wasn't there after the bus crash and I promised if he needed me, regardless of whether or not we were on speaking terms, I would be there." Cuddy stood and gave Wilson a hug.

"Hey, those might be old, sagging funbags, but they're my funbags," House said with one eye open.

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she shook her head, finally meeting Wilson's gaze. He couldn't help but chuckle, with raised eyebrows. "Now you know why I promised regardless of whether or not we were speaking."

Turning to House, she pointed a finger at his chest, poking him lightly to emphasize each syllable, "Behave."

He smiled wryly, "Moi? Never! Fight the power! Stick it to the man!"

Cuddy sighed, leaned down and placed a light peck on his lips, "I mean it, or you'll never see these old, sagging funbags again. Got me?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Cuddy turned towards the door, blushing slightly when she realized Wilson had heard what she'd just said. "Call me when you know anything?"

"I will," Wilson reassured her.

"I'm going to see if my sister can drive us back home later today."

Wilson nodded, "I've already booked the hotel room for another night, so I'll drive House home tomorrow. Let me know if your sister can't drive you home."

"Thanks, Wilson."

"Hey, guess this means I won't be at work later today," House called out.

Cuddy looked at him, "Or tomorrow, I suppose?"

House smiled, "It was my secret plan to get two days off, you know." House dropped his smile almost immediately as a new thought occurred to him. "Don't tell my team."

Cuddy tilted her head to one side while placing a hand on her hip sighing, "Give me a little credit. What should I tell them?"

House thought on that for a moment. "Tell them you sent Wilson and me on a consult. In Connecticut."

Wilson cocked an eyebrow, "Not bad."

"Thanks, I always think of my best lies after a seizure."

"Take care of him, Wilson," Cuddy said as she left to find Mia.

_______


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the two day wait. RL happens :) Anyway, here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 8

Wilson stepped back into the hospital room after a quick trip to the men's room and found House seated in a wheelchair, a tall blond nurse standing behind him. There was a second, vacant wheelchair waiting expectantly beside him.

"James Wilson?" an orderly inquired.

Skeptically, Wilson eyed the young man, "Yes?"

"If you'd just take a seat sir, we can be on our way."

"Excuse me?"

"Just take a seat in the wheelchair, and we can head on down to the imaging room for the scans."

Wilson shook his head, "He's the patient," he said, pointing at House, "not me."

The orderly furrowed his brow, reviewed the chart he held in his hands and shook his head, "Um, well according to this, you're scheduled for an MRI of your left arm and shoulder."

Wilson closed his eyes as understanding slowly dawned on him and pursing his lips, he shot House a disbelieving look. "What have you done?"

"Gweggy was scawed of the big bad machine. He wants big daddy Wilson to go foost," House said in a baby voice.

"I don't need an MRI."

House suddenly turned serious and glared at his friend, "Seriously? Because you've winced six times in the last two hours. That arm's still bothering you."

"Stop evading. We're here for you today."

Acting just like a child, House stuck out his chin saying, "Well, either you get your MRI first, or I'm checking out AMA, sans scans."

"Don't do this, House."

The orderly cleared his throat and both men stopped to look at him. "We only have a narrow window when the machines are available to you. The schedule is pretty tight."

"Yeah, Wilson," House whined.

Rolling his eyes, Wilson said, "I can walk."

"Sorry sir, hospital policy."

Through gritted teeth, Wilson sighed, "Fine," as he sat in the wheelchair.

_______

"Excuse me! Sir, no, you can't go in there!"

Wilson heard the commotion and without needing to look, he knew House was pushing his way into the imaging room. Wilson lay on the table, inside the MRI machine, waiting for the test to begin.

Over the intercom, he suddenly heard a tech say, "I'm sorry Mr. Wilson, we're having some trouble with…"

"Houston, we have a problem," House's voice boomed over the intercom. "And that's DOCTOR Wilson to you," he said to the techs. Wilson heard more struggling as House fought off the technicians by tossing single sheets of paper at them, followed closely by trying to blow them away with his un-brushed bad breath.

"Um, excuse me?" Wilson called out.

"Just a minute sir," one of the technicians said.

"No, you don't understand. Let him stay. He's a doctor; it's okay."

Wilson suddenly heard the commotion stop; he then heard House's voice reemerge over the intercom.

"They don't believe you. They're calling Doc Revale."

Several minutes later, the technician again came across the intercom, "Sorry about that Dr. Wilson. We'll start the scan now. Hold still please."

When the scan was finished, Wilson called out, "Satisfied?"

House studied the test results, scrutinizing every detail. "Just inflammation."

The technicians pulled Wilson out of the machine and as he sat up, he glanced at House. "Stop stalling; it's your turn and when you're finished, you're getting a CT done whether you want one or not." he said authoritatively.

_______

Wilson now stood in with the technicians as House underwent the MRI scan. Knowing his friend would never admit to just how scared he really was, hence the stalling tactics he had employed, Wilson tried to ease his tension.

"Mork calling Orson, come in Orson."

House smiled, "Nanu, nanu."

A tech could be heard, "No talking please; just lie still."

As the scans popped up onto the screens, Wilson became quiet, settling into oncologist mode. He reviewed every spec of House's scans, his heart plummeting upon getting a good look at House's damaged kidney.

House heard the machine stop moving and he called out, "So Mork, what's the verdict?"

"Shazbot," Wilson said glumly.

_______

Both men sat staring at the scans in House's room. Mork's fictional swear word described it all; Shazbot, indeed.

"It's metastasized to your spine. Liver's clear amazingly. Lungs look okay. Your right kidney will probably have to be completely removed; that mass looks too big to be operable."

House placed his head into his hands, massaging his temples, "Yeah, good thing I've got great medical insurance, huh?" he said sarcastically. "That way I can prolong my death from six months to a year."

"Nephrectomy, radiation for your spine, and we'll have to follow up with Interleukin-2 and Interferon and hope it doesn't spread further. There's been considerable research with Interleukin-2…"

House grabbed for his cane interrupting Wilson, "I know."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Home. I've got some things I need to take care of before I die. Damn, think the reception's decent in the afterlife? I don't want to miss my soap."

Wilson caught up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, we can treat this."

"Twenty percent, Wilson."

"Spontaneous remis…"

House shook his head, "Spontaneous remission is like pitching a penny into a wishing well and expecting your wish to come true."

"You have to fight this."

House sat down on the edge of his hospital bed and looked up at his friend, the two steps he'd taken having left him short of breath. "Everybody has to check out sometime."

Steeling himself for an argument and reminding himself that he had to win, Wilson ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to say this just once and you're going to hear me out."

When House said nothing, Wilson charged ahead. "You have unfinished business here. If you won't fight for me or for Cuddy, then fight for Mia."

House shook his head, as he closed his eyes.

"No, don't you wimp out on me, House. We've come too far for that. I'm not going to just sit back and watch you die; it's going to be one hell of a fight but you've got to try. People have lived far more than a decade after they were treated for renal cell carcinoma. A decade, House."

House hung his head, still unable to look at his friend.

Wilson stood directly in front of him, hands on hips. "I'm not letting you out of your lease on our friendship."

House twirled his cane, thought for a while as Wilson continued to stand in his superhero stance. Hating that he was a nephrologist, House said, "Six months."

"That's a start."

"No. You've got six months. No improvements, no further treatment. And if it doesn't improve, you agree to inject me with an extremely relaxing dose of morphine." House finally met Wilson's gaze and Wilson nodded. He would take it; it was better than a flat-out refusal.

"Get the AMA paperwork; I can't stand all these sick people."

_______

"Here," Wilson said, passing the cell phone to House, "Better lie to her now while she can't actually see us."

House waited for Cuddy to pick up the phone and before she could say hello, he pinched his nose and in a southern drawl he said, "Miss. Cuddy? This is Dr. Finklestein with FunBag central. We just wanted to inform you that your funbags are sagging more than the acceptable norm and you'll need to come in for an adjustment."

"Where are you?" Cuddy asked, annoyed.

"I don't know, I think we just passed a Taco Bell. Oh wait, there's a McDonald's. Oooooh pizza!"

"Put Wilson on," she said impatiently.

"Sorry, he's unable to come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll be sure to have him return your call."

"Put me on speaker, House."

House finally acquiesced, but only because exhaustion had set it.

"Wilson?" she asked.

"I'm here," he said with a sigh.

"Why the hell is he out of the hospital?"

"I am sitting right here, you know. I checked out AMA. Did you examine Mia?"

Cuddy sighed, "She's fine. Wilson? What's going on with House?"

"He's okay. He's staying at my place tonight. We've been talking and I want you to hear what House has to say and I want you to know that I agree and fully support his choice."

Sounding concerned, she asked, "House?"

Wilson looked at House and nodded, encouraging his friend to lie, thereby enabling him yet again, so that his best friend could keep his cancerous secret just that much longer.

With a corner of his mouth tucked into a frown, House crafted what he hoped to be a plausible lie. "I need some time off."

Cuddy first looked at her sister, who so graciously agreed to drive them back to Princeton. She then looked at Mia through the rear view mirror, grateful she was asleep. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Wilson decided to answer before House would snark his way into revealing what he was so desperately trying to protect. "Cuddy, we've agreed that he needs to seek some alternative therapy for his leg and he needs an extended break to give it a chance to really work."

"House? After all these years, you're going to seek out other pain relief methods?"

"Yeah, you know marijuana's legal in some states, it might prove to-"

Wilson cut him off by raising his voice, "I've suggested he consider taking a month off for now, to check things out. I've found an acupuncturist and massage therapist in Boston who both specialize in chronic pain. House's team can manage the department while he's away and he can provide consults via phone. He needs this, Cuddy." Wilson chanced a glance at his friend and watched as House leaned his head against the glass, his eyes tired.

He too felt worn, not merely from the long night spent fearing for House's life, but also from the knowledge that House was soon to be more exhausted than he'd ever been. He would face the toughest trial of his life, and Wilson hoped he had the strength to see him through it. House naturally wouldn't be going to Boston for pain therapy. Instead, he'd undergo a nephrectomy; removing his right kidney would be the first step in saving his life. How they would sneak him in and out of the hospital unseen, was something he hadn't figured out yet, but he would in time. He would do just about anything to prolong House's life. They'd have to discuss which surgeon, which meant either allowing Chase in on his condition, or seeking treatment at another hospital.

Cuddy's jaw dropped slightly, "A month? You've really thought about this, haven't you?" As she thought about it, a new concern emerged. "House? Is there something wrong with your liver that you're not telling me? Is that why you're seeking alternative pain therapy?"

Finally a question Wilson could answer truthfully, "Nope. Liver's fine, but he's built up a resistance to certain pain meds and the newer ones seem to give him high fevers and seizures."

"Wilson, I need the truth."

"His liver is functioning normally, that's the honest truth."

"Huh. I'm really glad you've chosen to address your pain, House." Cuddy was shocked nearly to tears that House had finally chosen to take care of himself. "I guess that seizure was a blessing in disguise."

Wilson looked over at House, thankful the man had fallen asleep. "He's asleep. I want him to take tomorrow off; he can go in on Friday, get his team in order and then we'll go from there. Hopefully the acupuncturist can see him early next week."

"Okay, I agree. I just hope this works."

"And I also think it would be best if you don't really mention the alternative pain therapy to him. I really had to convince him it was in his best interest. You know how he gets. I'm afraid if we push, he'll fight it."

"Yeah, I know exactly how he gets. Are you sure he's okay?"

"Well, he's House," Wilson said, unable to blatantly lie about House's true well being.

"That he is. Look, we're almost home. Call me if you or House need anything. I'll drop by tomorrow evening, okay?"

"Thanks."

_______

Foreman and Cameron finished assigning jobs to the fellows as Cuddy walked into the diagnostics office the following morning. She greeted them and readied herself to announce the upcoming change in House's schedule.

"I'd like to talk with you about House," she said, motioning for the entire team to take a seat.

"Is he okay?" Cameron asked, concerned.

Cuddy nodded. "He's okay. He's decided to take some time off. House should be back tomorrow to tie up some loose ends, and then he's going to take about a month's vacation."

"A month?" Foreman asked, surprised at the news.

Kutner looked at her, concerned. "Does this have anything to do with the blood sample he gave the other day?"

Cuddy looked at Kutner in confusion. "Blood sample?"

"Yeah, the one he said you required for drug testing. I'm guessing it was the one Wilson was looking for?"

Cuddy closed her mouth, afraid if she'd left it open they'd suspect she had no idea what he was talking about. Covering as quickly as she could, she said, "Right, the blood sample. No, no, House needs to take some time off and I agree; he hasn't taken a real vacation in years." Cuddy purposely left it vague; House's medical reasons for going to Boston and his recent trip to the ER were confidential and she had no intention of breaking his confidence.

"I just wanted to inform you before he comes in tomorrow. I'd appreciate it if you could downplay his leaving. Wilson had to talk him into it and I don't want him to change his mind. So, business as usual tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Cameron said, looking no less confused then when Cuddy walked in the door.

"Foreman, Cameron and Kutner, you will share his hospital duties in House's absence, but should you need to consult with him about a patient, he will be available via cell phone."

Foreman nodded, "Not a problem."

"Good. I've got a meeting in ten minutes. I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

_______

"They know I'm not going in today."

"Which is why they won't think to look for you."

"And if someone sees me?"

"You're going to have to tell Chase. If you tell Chase, he's going to tell Cameron."

"This is a horrible idea."

"What? Treating you for a life-threatening illness? Yeah, rotten idea," Wilson said sarcastically. He softened his tone, trying not to become frustrated with a man who was on the verge of withdrawing into himself. "Look, I'm not going anywhere. You could use some fluids; you're dehydrated."

"Great, maybe I'll die of thirst."

Wilson decided the soft-handed, best-friend approach wasn't working, so he switched tactics. "Would you get your head out of your ass and snap out of it? This doesn't have to be a death sentence,"

"Right, snap of it. Because it's so simple to just snap out of a cancer diagnosis."

"Yes, you have cancer. Yes, it's life-threatening. And yes, this is the most frightening thing you'll ever go through, but you aren't without options here, House, and you're not alone."

House frowned, reminding Wilson very much of a young child. "You can't be my constant nurse; you aren't nearly as hot in a nurse's uniform as you think you are."

Wilson tipped his chin downwards and sighed deeply, "You. Are not. Alone." Before House could wallow again in misery, Wilson continued, "We need to speak with Chase today. If you're not comfortable with having the surgery at Princeton-Plainsboro, then we need to come up with a back up plan. Boston's good. New York General's good, too"

"No."

"No what?"

"Boston's too far. Recovery would take place in a nursing home."

"That's something else we need to discuss. If I'm going to take care of you, Shelby's going to have to know the truth. I can't hide this from her."

"What about Chris?"

"What about him?"

"A son needs his dad around."

Not sure where this was coming from, Wilson sat down next to House on the guest bed in his own home. "He knows that sometimes I have to work odd hours."

"Staying with me 24/7 isn't odd hours. Don't throw your time with him away."

"House?" Wilson asked cautiously. "Where's this coming from?"

House finally met Wilson's gaze and shrugged, "A son just needs his dad, that's all I'm saying."

Wilson looked down at the floor, suddenly realizing that House wasn't talking about Chris; he was masking what was at the heart of his concern. Wilson lowered his voice, "And Mia needs you."

"Yeah, and Mia needs me," House said sarcastically.

_______

"So, do you think something's wrong with House?" Kutner asked shortly after Cuddy had left, as Foreman and Cameron downed the last of their coffee. Cameron shook her head and shrugged.

Foreman turned down one corner of his mouth in an annoyed smirk, "You know House; he's probably got some hare-brained idea."

"I don't know, I definitely saw him drawing his own blood and did you see Cuddy's face? She had no idea Wilson had asked for House's blood work."

"That could be anything; Wilson's his general practitioner. It was probably just routine."

Kutner looked at him skeptically, "I don't know."

"Look, he's pulled stuff in the past. He faked cancer to get into a drug trial the year before you were hired; he even disguised his name as 'Luke and Laura' just to hide the evidence. And then he faked syphilis the very next year. If you're so worried about him, go see if he has any blood under his name or under Luke and Laura." Foreman paused as he rinsed his coffee mug, "When House is really sick or injured, we all know about it. He doesn't hide it. We knew when he had pneumonia, we knew when his leg was acting up, we know when he's got a simple cold because he whines like a little kid. House is fine."

"Ya, I guess," Kutner said, not fully convinced.

"I think Foreman's right," Cameron finally spoke up.

Kutner nodded, "Okay."


	9. Chapter 9

Again, sorry I haven't been updating daily. Miss. G is sick, as am I, and I started a new class. Hopefully I'll update every other day from here on out. Here's an extra-long chapter.

Ch. 9

After lunch, Cuddy made her way to the lab, intent on checking House's blood work history. She wondered why Wilson would hide the fact that he'd had blood work done on House; routine labs wouldn't be something to hide. What bothered her most was that House had lied to Kutner about his reasons for it; he'd told him it was for drug testing purposes. She didn't require House to submit to drug testing. Shaking her head while trying to make sense of it, Cuddy turned the corner and nearly bowled Kutner down as they both approached the lab.

"That blood work wasn't for drug testing, was it?" Kutner asked suspiciously as he picked up a dropped file.

She pursed her lips. "It's no wonder House hired you."

"He's hidden blood work under the pseudonym 'Luke and Laura' before."

"You check under that name, I'll look under House."

Kutner agreed and both began to search for House's blood samples and any possible lab results. Minutes later, they both came up empty-handed.

"Nothing here," Kutner called out.

"It's a bust here, too. There's not enough blood to test for anything."

"Well, either that wasn't his blood, Wilson was mistaken in asking for it, or he's hidden it under another name."

"I'll talk with Wilson," Cuddy said. "Don't you have a seminar to teach soon?"

"In five minutes. I better go."

"Thanks Dr. Kutner."

As soon as Kutner was out of sight, Cuddy sat down on a stool and tried to work out just what name House would hide his blood under. It couldn't be anyone real, certainly not anyone associated with the hospital. So she focused on fictional characters, or at least a public figure House might admire. Her first thought was to check under 'Jagger', thinking music was a possibility, but there was no one listed under that name. She tried a handful of other rock stars and one classical pianist, but to no avail.

Again she sat on the stool and pondered the question. She thought about what name he had used to hide the last batch; 'Luke n. Laura', soap stars. She sighed, hoping her suspicion was correct. He'd been watching "Prescription Passion" now for years and Cuddy immediately checked under the name 'Brock Sterling' and hit jackpot.

_______

"Hello?" Chase answered.

"Hi, it's Wilson."

"Oh, hey." Somewhat confused by the unexpected phone call, particularly after he had just left the hospital, Chase said, "Nice of you to call."

"This isn't a social call, it's about a patient."

"Why didn't the hospital page me?"

Wilson paused as he stared at House. The pair had managed to sneak into the hospital shortly after House's team had left for the evening. Wilson pushed House in a wheelchair; a blanket covered him as he tucked his chin and hid under a baseball cap and dark, squarish glasses normally used for patients with dilated eyes. It was an effective disguise; House appeared to be an older patient, and his identity was indiscernible. They now sat in Wilson's office, blinds drawn, door closed.

"Wilson? Am I on speaker phone?"

House nodded at Wilson, encouraging him to continue. "I'm here and yes, you're on speaker phone. The hospital didn't page you because it's a private consult."

"Um, okay. Who's the patient?"

House held up his hand to stop Wilson. Chase heard House's gruff voice answer, "God."

Wilson was sure that had he been able to see Chase at that moment, he would have seen the younger doctor looking bewildered, with perhaps his jaw hanging open or an expression of worry across his middle-aged face.

"House?" Chase asked.

House maintained Wilson's gaze, his friend's stare the only thing keeping House from denying it all right then and there. "Do you know any other god?"

"Would you be willing to come back in and meet with us in my office?" Wilson asked. "No one is to know we're here, not even Cameron."

They could hear Chase take a deep breath, fraught with concern, "It's that serious?"

Growing impatient, House grumbled, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll be there in 10 minutes."

_______

Eight minutes later, there was a light rap on Wilson's office door. Wilson ushered him in, before returning to House's side.

Looking slightly pale, Chase sat opposite House and looked his long-time friend and former boss in the eye. "What are we dealing with?"

Wilson tossed a bag of lactated ringers to Chase, "Why don't you get that started while I run down to the lab. It'll give the two of you time to talk."

Nodding, Chase said, "Okay."

"I'll be back," Wilson said as he closed the door behind him.

Chase looked at House, expecting an explanation; a fistful of paperwork was thrust into his chest instead. Frowning, he set the papers on the chair next to him and set up the IV, inserting it into House's hand. "Here, hold this," Chase said, handing House the bag of fluids as he walked towards the door. Chase picked up the coat tree and set it behind House, hanging the IV bag from it. Leaning back, he picked up the papers and began to read.

Before Chase's eyes could grow wide upon reading the diagnosis, House quietly said, "Think you can squeeze in a nephrectomy next week?"

Without looking up at him, Chase closed his eyes briefly, before scanning the report in front of him further and found his answer. His brow furrowed and his eyes began to shine.

"If you can't handle it, I can go to Dr. Forge at New York General; can't have my surgeon sobbing into my open gut."

Chase tucked in his bottom lip as he looked up at House. "How long have you known?"

"Suspected it about a week ago. Confirmed yesterday."

"I'm so sor-"

"No, I don't want your pity. I want your surgical skills."

"Who knows?"

"Wilson."

"That's it?"

"I don't need the whole hospital in on my business. No one else knows. No one else needs to know. Your surgical team doesn't need to know who's under the mask and shower cap while I'm on the table. As far as they're concerned, my last name is Smith, first initial, J."

"And how do you expect to hide your identity from the nursing staff in post-op?"

House ran a hand over his face. "Haven't figured that one out yet."

Chase looked down at the chart in his hands and read a little further, before standing to place the scans on the light board. "So what's the plan? Remove the kidney, radiate the spot on your spine and treat with Interleuken-2?"

"And Interferon."

Chase puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. "I can schedule you for Tuesday." He walked back towards the couch that House sat on and checked the IV, an unmistakable look of concern causing the crows feet on his eyes to deepen.

House looked up at him, "You're not going to hug me now, are you?"

Chase half smiled, "No, but I might later."

"Just warn me first, that way I can have my cane ready," House held up his cane as if beat him with it.

"House!" Wilson exclaimed as he walked in to find House poised to strike Chase.

Chase waved his hands. "It's okay. He's joking. Just showing me what he'll do if I try to hug him."

"Or if you screw up the surgery," House added. He placed his fingers against his temples, yawning simultaneously.

Wilson looked to Chase, "So, will you do it?"

Chase nodded, "Tuesday. I'll set it all up, but you can't hide this from the nursing staff. They'll know."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"Mind if I take the file?" Chase asked.

"Go ahead."

Chase headed towards the door and held his hand up in farewell. "See you for pre-op on Monday, say six pm?"

"Yeah, looking forward to it," House replied sarcastically.

_______

Cuddy had taken the test results back to her office before she read them just over an hour earlier. Stunned at first, she sat in an almost catatonic state, shocked at the results of the blood test. And then the anger hit. She was angry with him for hiding it from her; she was even angrier that cancer had somehow managed to interrupt his life when he'd been doing so well. Gone were the instances of near death experiences. He hadn't done anything as stupid as sticking a knife in a wall socket, or risking his own life for a patient in nearly a decade, and though House could hardly be described as happy, he'd been considerably less miserable as of late.

She moved to the couch in her office, curled up into a tight ball and rested her head on the armrest, unable to hold back the tears. Cuddy had been so afraid of losing House so many times, as recently as the night prior as she feared what might have caused the seizure. The cancer markers were quite clear on the lab results and cancer was a far worse diagnosis than she'd expected, particularly after having been told he was simply experiencing leg pain. She fought back the choking sobs that threatened to overtake her, allowing her anger at both House, and as she thought about it, at Wilson, to keep the uncontrollable sobbing at bay.

Wilson. She wondered how long he'd known, how long the boys were hiding such a life-threatening condition from her. House wasn't just any employee; she knew her employees had every right to privacy, but House had been hers at one point, undeniably. Though they were not a couple in the traditional sense, both had an unspoken understanding that they would always be there for one another. Neither had seen anyone else in years, choosing instead to take refuge in the other's company in times of distress or joy, and certainly in all matters concerning Mia. They were attached, whether he would admit or not and she was hurt that he hadn't told her about the cancer.

Mia. The thought of breaking the news to her precious daughter, his one saving grace, broke her heart. Cuddy sat up, unable to hold back the breath stealing cries of a secret she wished had not been revealed. She placed her hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to will the sobs of sorrow away, but there, in her office, Cuddy cried long and hard for a man she loved and hated and hoped could overcome the evil called cancer.

_______

Puffy-eyed and flushed, Cuddy finally gathered herself and made her way to the underground parking structure. As she reached for the elevator button, she found her fingers pressing the number four instead of the letter 'P'. Moments later, she found herself walking towards the diagnostic conference room. Passing it, she stood outside of House's office and she pressed her forehead to the glass, touching her skin to the letters of his name and she shut her eyes briefly.

The office, and the conference room were empty, both darkened for the evening. Touching the letters of his name briefly with her fingertips, Cuddy made her way back towards the elevators. As she passed Wilson's office, she noticed a light coming from his office and finding it strange, she knocked on the door.

Hearing some kind of rustling inside and muffled whispers, she knocked again. "I know you're in there," she said, not knowing who might be inside. She knew Wilson was at home, taking care of House. Who could possibly be in his office, she didn't know, but the door was locked and Cuddy had a sinking feeling stemming from the pit of her stomach.

_______

"She knows someone's here," Wilson whispered.

"Shhh, she'll go away."

"No she won't. She thinks we're at my place, remember? She called earlier, said she was running late, but how are we supposed to get out of here when she's standing at the door?" Wilson began to panic as House frowned at him, rolling his eyes.

"Just be quiet a minute, maybe she'll go away."

Wilson gave House a disbelieving look as he raised one eyebrow.

_______

Not willing to back down, Cuddy took the keys out of her bag. "I have a master key and if you don't open this door, I'm coming in. This is the private office of Dr. Wilson, whoever you are, you don't belong in there. I'm calling security."

_______

"She's calling security," Wilson said anxiously. "You can't hide this from her forever."

"She's bluffing; she won't call security."

"House."

"No."

Wilson stood with his hands on his hips, glaring in frustration at his friend.

_______

Cuddy steeled herself to enter the office. She placed the key into the lock, opened it and ready to defend herself, she stood her ground firm. The sight before her indeed startled her, but not for the reason she expected.

"House?" The word caught in her throat, a ragged breath followed shortly. She was alarmed to see him sitting on the couch with an IV in his hand. Cuddy turned towards Wilson, a look of confusion across her face.

Wilson shrugged. "Hopefully we'll make it back to my place before you get there," he deadpanned.

With a scowl, House angrily said, "No security? Planning on overtaking us with your spike heels?"

She shook her head, "Clearly the two of you aren't going to attack me."

"You didn't know that."

Cuddy's expression suddenly changed from one of surprise to one of anger. "Don't change the subject, House. What's going on here?"

"Daddy thought I needed fluids."

"That's not what I meant, iBrock/i."

House leaned back into the couch with a sigh; a weight he had not known existed, suddenly lifted from his shoulders and looking into her eyes, it became clear to him that Cuddy had been crying for some time.

Just as quickly as her mood changed to anger, it changed to one of worry. Her eyes now wet again, she asked, "How bad?"

House tried to find a way to make the diagnosis seem less dire, but before he could come up with a way to brush off the life-threatening form of cancer, Wilson spoke for him.

"Renal Cell Carcinoma."

"Stage?" she asked.

"Four. Metastasized to his spine."

Cuddy closed her eyes and shook her head, tears again threatening to fall. "Can you give us a minute?" she asked of Wilson.

He agreed, knowing the pair needed some time. "His IV needs to come out," he said, closing the door behind him.

"It's my leg that's crippled," House called out.

House began to remove the IV when she said, "Give me that." House frowned as she fussed over him.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"I thought you'd figure it out by the time I went bald."

Trying her best to hide her concern she asked, "So, are you going to Boston for treatment?"

"No."

"That was all a lie." It was not a question.

"You weren't supposed to find out."

Cuddy finished removing the IV and set it aside. "Surgery?"

"Nephrectomy," he confirmed.

"Laparoscopic?"

"Hopefully."

"Who?"

"Chase."

Cuddy sighed, finding she was unsure of what to do with her hands now that the IV had been removed. She didn't dare look him in the eye, for fear of losing control of her emotions, so she turned away.

House stood and said, "Pass me my cane."

Without turning around to look at him, she picked the cane up from the back of the chair and held her arm out to the side. He took it from her, brushing his fingers against hers as they made the exchange and that simple touch was all it took for the floodgates to open. Cuddy tried to hold back her tears, but it was useless. Nothing could stop her from feeling the pain and stress from that afternoon.

"I don't want your pity."

Regaining partial composure, she said, "Maybe it's not you I pity."

"You don't have cancer," he said, miffed.

"And if something happens to you, I won't have you, either. Mia won't have you." Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head, trying to push that thought out of her mind.

"Everybody dies," House said with an audible hint of depression that Cuddy knew often led House to isolation.

Still unable to look at him, she shook her head fighting back the tears. Pushing back the urge to lash out at him for not telling her, especially after all they'd been through, she didn't noticed House as he approached.

"How can you be so cold?" she asked, not realizing he was standing behind her. "Why can't you express just an ounce of emotion?"

He leaned in and whispered, "Just because I don't breakdown and bawl like Wilson would, doesn't mean I don't feel this."

Startled, she inhaled sharply. She turned around to look at him and she knew he was being as open with her about this as he could be. No, he would not break down and cry or scream or throw things in anger, at least not in anyone else's presence, but he would ask without directly asking. And this small confession told Cuddy all she needed to know; he was scared.

"You're staying with me."

"Not with Mia."

"I'm not giving you a choice."

"I don't want Mia to know."

"You don't think she'll figure it out? She's not stupid. She's going to wonder why her Uncle Jimmy's taking her to piano instead of you every week. You're going to need someone to take care of you and knowing you, you'll piss off every nurse we get."

"Wilson…"

She cut him off, "No, Wilson has a young son. Too young. Mia's old enough now; she'll understand. She'll hate it and probably fight it, but she has a right to know. You're more than just her uncle; you know it and she knows it. I'm going to take a leave of absence and we'll get through this."

"I'll be fine. I don't want your sagging badonkadonk hovering over me when I'm puking my guts out."

"Tough."

She looked up at him and there, in the quiet of Wilson's office, she saw how the years were beginning to affect him. For the first time, she saw how gaunt he looked; he was thinner than she remembered, grayer, tired. Resisting the urge to wrap her arms around him, Cuddy looked him in the eye. "We'll stop at your place this weekend and pack up some of your things. And I only want you here for a half day tomorrow. Foreman, Cameron and Kutner run this place like a tight ship; you shouldn't have to do much to settle everything."

"They don't know-"

Again she interrupted him, "They don't need to know."

He gave her a half-hearted smile and just as he had so many times before, he was amazed and grateful at how well she knew him; it was a comfort he relied on, even during arguments and banter, in bed and with all things Mia. He almost wished she would hug him. Almost.

Wilson poked his head in, "It's getting late, I need to get House home."

House laughed out loud, a fake and annoying laugh, much to the surprise of both Cuddy and Wilson. "Do you hear yourselves? Next you'll be orchestrating my soccer practice, flute lessons and tutoring sessions."

Wilson opened his office door to walk inside and he smiled. "And you'll go to bed with no dinner if you don't behave."

"Well, guess I'll lose some weight then, won't I?" House teased.

Cuddy looked at him sadly, "You already have."

Frowning, House said, "I'm going home with Mommy. She promised me ice-cream and a movie." He motioned to the bottle of water in Wilson's hand and Wilson passed it to him.

Wilson looked at Cuddy, "You sure you want to deal with this kid? He misses the toilet, tracks mud into the house and leaves his toys on the stairs."

"That's nothing. Last week I caught him taping sanitary pads to the windows."

House choked on the water as he started laughing. It was a genuine laugh this time. He looked at Wilson and with bright eyes, he said, "And that is why I'm staying at Mommy's house. She buys the bestest stickers ever."


	10. Chapter 10

Here's the next chapter. Thanks much for the reviews!

Chapter 10

House sat on the couch in his living room, watching Cuddy flit about as she packed some of his things. His mood had progressively darkened between leaving the hospital and arriving at his apartment.

"I'm not going there tonight."

Stopping momentarily, Cuddy placed her hands on her hips as she tipped her head to one side. "What do you mean you're not coming?"

"I'm. Not. Going. To. Your. House. Tonight."

Sighing, she placed several of his journals on top of the coffee table as she sat on the chaise lounge. "And when exactly are you planning on coming over?"

"Call a nursing home, it'll be easier for everyone."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

He turned sharply, looking her in the eye. "I'm not wallowing in self-pity, Cuddy. Wilson's got a kid. You've got Mia. Maybe I don't want her to know about this."

"We've gone over this already; just how long do think she'll sit around without seeing you? She's been begging to see you all day today. That's what? Not even 48 hours since you last saw her."

"Just go."

"Just go? Just like that? Bye, Cuddy. See ya later. Is that all I get, House? After all these years, you're just going to brush me off?"

"Pushing people away is what I do best, isn't it?" he said.

Staring him in the eye, Cuddy dared him to take the thought a step further; he cocked an eyebrow, daring her to try and stop him. She refused to give in. "You can push all you want, but I'm not going anywhere."

House said nothing as he twiddled with his Vicodin canister, spinning it between his fingers. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to crawl under the covers and forget the night Wilson had barged in during the ultrasound. He wanted to pretend there was no such thing as cancer.

"What if I don't want treatment?" he asked quietly.

Cuddy closed her eyes momentarily, as he just voiced her worst fear. "You want to give up? That's not like you."

"Why? To prolong my inevitable death by a few months? A year maybe? A year of puke and pain? Yeah, pain is my vice; I just love being in pain. Sounds exactly like me, Cuddy."

She sighed. "What if we can get you into remission? What if the cancer doesn't come back?"

"What if it does?"

Cuddy rested her hand on his left knee, more out of her need to touch him at that moment than in an effort to comfort him. He stared at her hand, tensing somewhat. She couldn't find the words to express her fears and even if she could, Cuddy wasn't sure she could voice them without crying. And so they sat in silence, both deeply engrossed in their own thoughts of the days and weeks that lie ahead.

_______

Cuddy continued to pack some of his things from the living room into boxes while House napped in his bedroom. As she reached for the metal box that she knew contained his 'secret' stash of morphine, her cell phone rang.

"Hey," she said.

"How is he?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy inhaled deeply, suddenly realizing how tired she was. "He's in denial."

"So he's refusing to stay at your place?"

She smiled weakly at Wilson's astuteness. "He doesn't want treatment."

"But he's agreed to go to your place?"

"I think I've talked him into it, but he keeps stalling by insisting that I pack half the living room."

"Need some help?"

"Would you mind picking Mia up? She's at her friend's house."

"What are you planning?"

"House won't refuse if she's excited that he's coming to our house. And I can use the two of you to help carry these boxes."

"Which friend's house?"

"Sarah's; it's the one where they have that big Halloween party every year, over on Fifth."

"I know the one. We'll be there in about half an hour. He's not going to like this."

"I know. Have Mia call me once you've got her. Thanks, Wilson."

_______

Mia bolted through House's front door, smiled at her mom and nearly ran into House as he came out of the kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about. There was no denying the shocked expression on his face; he knew he had been played.

"Uncle House!" Mia shouted as she suddenly slowed down to greet him. She didn't touch him, didn't hug him like she normally would have, though not because she didn't want to; she was afraid he wasn't quite up to par yet and thought it best to just talk with him.

House looked at Cuddy. "And she's here, because?"

"I'm here to help you pack!" Mia's excitement nearly bubbled over. "So you're staying in the guest room? Uncle Jimmy suggested we stop and get a bunch of DVD's, and maybe even a few new video games. And since tomorrow's Saturday, maybe we could-"

"Mia…Mia wait." House turned sharply to glare at Wilson and Cuddy. "What have you told her?"

Wilson met House's gaze and calmly replied, "You're apartment building has to be fumigated, right? You need a place to stay for a while."

House closed his eyes and shook his head. He was angry that they had used Mia as a pawn and even angrier that they'd lied to her on top of it. He didn't want her to know about the cancer, but the temporary bandage they affixed to the situation wouldn't hold for long; in a few short days, House was scheduled for major surgery and once Mia learned of the lie, he was fairly certain she wouldn't be too happy about it.

Cuddy was right and she knew it the instant Mia bounded into the apartment; House would give in. She also knew there would be hell to pay, but she was prepared for that, too. "House, we need to talk."

He stared at her and shook his head; he was in no mood for idle chit chat. "Can't, busy getting this place ready for the _fumigators_."

"Come on," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "Wilson and Mia can start loading the car while we talk about some ground rules." Cuddy hoped House would pick up on her attempt to hide the reason why he wouldn't be helping to carry things out to the car, using rules as a guise.

He reluctantly followed her into his bedroom and watched from the bed as she shut the door. Once the door was closed, his demeanor instantly darkened. "You had no right to bring her here," he hissed.

Cuddy sighed as she sat next to him on the bed; she felt awful for doing what she did, but she still felt it was necessary. "I pulled a few strings over at New York General." House remained silent, but she could tell he was interested. "We've arranged for Chase to perform your surgery there on Tuesday. Tomorrow after lunch, you and Chase will head over there for a few more tests and pre-op and we can check you in on Monday. It'll be easier to keep this quiet there than trying to hide you from the nurses who hate you."

House fidgeted, shifted his weight a bit on the bed and refused to look her in the eye. "What if I don't want the surgery?"

Cuddy inhaled deeply while choosing her words carefully. "That's your choice."

"That's it? No lecture?"

"This is your life; your choice. Just know that there are people here who need you. _And I'm not talking about your patients_." She squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Think about it. Whatever you decide, Mia expects you to spend a few nights at our house," Cuddy said with a smirk. "I'm going to help Wilson with the boxes."

The last box was loaded into Wilson's minivan as Mia sat in the backseat of Cuddy's car. Cuddy waited for Wilson to hoist the last box in and the two then sat on the back ledge of the minivan, waiting to see what House would do. They briefly glanced at one another before focusing on the front door of the apartment complex.

Ten minutes passed and they again looked at one another. "Think he's okay?" Cuddy asked.

"I'll go check on him."

Before Wilson had the chance to stand up, House emerged carrying a large duffle and slowly began to make his way down the stairs. Wilson quickly got to his feet and met him at the base of the steps.

"So nice of you to help a dying cripple," House shouted, as if he were being extremely inconvenienced by having to carry his own bag.

"Mia's just over there in the car; she'll hear you," Wilson said.

Cuddy marched herself over to House and pointed a finger into his chest as Wilson carried the bag to the car. "Don't you dare do anything to hurt her, House. She doesn't know yet and when she finds out, it needs to be in a calm, controlled manner; not some selfish, flippant remark because you're in a foul mood. You may have cancer, but she's had flip-flops twice since the night you were in the hospital because she was so worried about you." Cuddy emphasized her words with several pokes to his chest.

House thought for a moment, pursing his lips occasionally as he glanced in Mia's direction; he finally nodded in agreement.

_______

"Tell me the truth."

"Uncle House, it was just twice."

"You're lying."

Mia averted her gaze, hoping House wouldn't see the deception in her eyes. The very act made him that much more suspicious. He watched her from the front seat and when she refused to look in his direction, House shook his head.

"Every once in a while," Mia whispered.

Cuddy furrowed her brow, looked at House and then at Mia through the rear view mirror. "Mia!"

"I'm fine, Mom. It's no big deal. Really."

"You had a serious heart condition as an infant. You know the rules. If your heart is bothering you, you have to tell me. Or at least tell Uncle House or Uncle Jimmy."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mom."

"No, it's not okay."

As tired as House was after the stressful day, he turned to look at Mia, Uncle mode turned off, doctor mode switched on. "How often is every once in a while? Once a month? Once a day?"

Mia again looked out of the window, not willing to admit she'd been hiding this from them for so long.

"Mia, answer me," House said.

"Whenever I breathe too hard."

"Every time you run, get upset, get excited?"

Mia met House's stare and nodded succinctly. "Sometimes several a week."

House pursed his lips, eyeing her skeptically. "And sometimes a few times a day? Like the night of the concert?"

"Yes," she said quietly, breaking his gaze.

Cuddy pulled the car into her driveway, turned off the engine and leaned forward to place her head into her hands. "This is more than I can take."

"I should go home."

She looked him in the eye. "No, House. I want you here," Cuddy said earnestly. She turned to look at Mia. "And when we get inside, he's going to give you a full exam whether you want one or not."

Mia opened her mouth to insist she was fine, but she was silenced by House's icy glare. This was obviously one such instance when House had chosen to side with her mom and Mia knew she had no say in the matter.

_______

House was perched on the couch, Mia on the coffee table when Wilson entered the house, carrying two boxes. He set them down and looked questioningly at Cuddy as House listened at length to Mia's heart.

Cuddy pulled him aside and whispered, "Mia's heart's been bothering her. She's been hiding it from us."

Wilson sighed and shook his head. He and Cuddy left House to finish examining Mia while they unloaded both vehicles of House's things.

_______

"So?" Cuddy asked as she sat next to House on the couch.

House looked over to Wilson. "I want ice cream."

Wilson raised his eyebrows as he looked at House. "You want ice cream?"

"Yep. Ice cream. Rocky road."

Wilson caught on and held his hand out to his niece. "Mia, why don't you come with me?"

Mia looked at both her mom and House quizzically, not entirely sure why she was being offered ice cream after having lied to them about her heart. "Mom?"

"Go ahead, sweetie."

"I'm not two years old anymore; you don't have to send me away with the promise of ice cream so you can talk."

"Rocky road, now," House said.

Sighing, Mia rolled her eyes. "What kind do you want, Mom?"

"Orange sherbet."

Wilson ushered Mia out of the front door as House sent him a quick nod of thanks before he too made his way to the minivan. House motioned for Cuddy to pass the phone to him as soon as the door closed behind Wilson.

"So?" Cuddy asked.

"She needs an echocardiogram and an MRI." House stared at the phone and sighed, frustrated at his exhaustion. "Here," he said, passing the phone to Cuddy, "call McMillen."

"What are you thinking?"

"Right now? I'd love to see the twins make an appearance before Wilson and Mia get back. Think we can fit that in?"

Cuddy couldn't help but smile. "Um, no."

House held up the stethoscope. "We could play doctor."

"Stop evading."

"You're no fun."

"Come on, House."

"She probably needs her pulmonary valve replaced," he sighed.

Cuddy held her hand over her mouth and shook her head. "I was hoping she wouldn't have to go through any more heart surgeries."

"Don't get all emotional," he said with a curled lip. "We need to see her test results before you put on your crying mommy hat. Call and make an appointment with McMillen."

House closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch as Cuddy dialed. It was getting late and she was forced to call the pediatric cardiologist on her cell phone. House seemed to zone out briefly, missing the beginning of the conversation as he thought about whether or not he wanted to go through with the nephrectomy. Weighing his options, he knew it would give him a few more months; enough time to see Mia through what would likely be another heart surgery. He brought his attention back to Cuddy and House grew frustrated with the tone of the conversation she was having; apparently, McMillen couldn't fit Mia in for at least a week. Before Cuddy knew what was happening, House reached across and grabbed the phone from her.

"Karen?" House held the phone away from his ear briefly. "Yeah, yeah, great to hear your voice, too," House said sarcastically. "Look, I have stage four renal cell carcinoma. Think you can fit Mia into your schedule before I bite the dust?"

Cuddy's mouth dropped open at about the same time as she smacked House on the arm.

"Cripple abuse!" he shouted. House paused as McMillen shouted a few choice words at him. "Yeah, I'm a jerk for saying such a thing. Look, Cuddy's got to play nursemaid for me after my nephrectomy on Tuesday. Would it kill you to squeeze Mia in before I go in for surgery?" He paused again. "No, I'm not kidding."

"Give me the phone, House," Cuddy said, holding her palm up.

He held up his hand in a traffic-stop kind of way as he continued to listen to McMillen on the phone. "Bye, Karen." House lowered his hand, and with a slight yawn he said, "She'll meet us in my office at eight o'clock tomorrow."

Stunned at what had just transpired, Cuddy tried to look him in the eye, but he refused to look at her. "So, does that mean you're going through with the nephrectomy?"

"Maybe."

"I guess that's better than a no."

_______


	11. Chapter 11

Here's a short update. I meant to tack this on to the end of Ch. 10 and somehow it got cut-off, so hence the shortish chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading & for the reviews!

Ch. 11

Cuddy gathered the ice cream bowls and placed them in the kitchen sink as House unpacked a few things in the guest bedroom. Mia was already asleep, Wilson had returned home hours earlier and Cuddy was bone achingly tired.

She walked back to the guest room and found House sitting on the edge of the bed in a t-shirt and boxers. "I'm glad you're here."

"How glad? Care to flash Thing One and Thing Two?"

She sighed, "House."

"Goodnight, Cuddy."

"'Night."

Leaving the door open, Cuddy retreated to her own bedroom, donned a nightgown, brushed her teeth and crawled into bed. Closing her eyes, her mind screamed with all of the day's twists and turns and the headache she thought had dissipated was suddenly back. She tried to fall asleep and when she couldn't, she thought of the color black, like her mom used to tell her to do when she was a little girl; it was supposed to quiet the mind. It wasn't working. Cuddy even tried counting fictitious sheep but to no avail. No matter what she did, she could not get her mind to turn off.

She wondered how he was doing and if House was silently brooding about his diagnosis; she wondered if he would go through with the nephrectomy. His conversation with McMillen was an indication to Cuddy that cancer was indeed at the forefront of his thoughts; likely his every waking thought and possibly the subject of his dreams, too. Her heart ached for him. It was just so like him to bottle up everything he was feeling; to push it down or out of the way while hiding his thoughts under crass remarks and snide comments.

Cuddy convinced herself that he might need a glass of water during the night and she found herself holding a glass at the threshold to the guestroom minutes later. She watched him for a few minutes from the doorway, hoping he was asleep and when he didn't say anything, she walked in and set the glass on the nightstand. She took a quick look at him, and noticed he was sleeping on his right side, his eyes closed. Cuddy always wondered how he managed to sleep on his bad leg, but it never seemed to bother him.

Before she could think twice about it, Cuddy crawled into bed with House, stretched out behind him, draped her arm under his so that her hand rested on his chest, and she placed her cheek on his back.

"Took you long enough; thought you were going to stare at me all night," House said without opening his eyes.

"Shut up and go to sleep,"

_______

Sometime during the night, House woke to the muffled sounds of Cuddy crying. He slowly inched his way towards her side of the bed and rested his hand on her shoulder; she had her back towards him and though she was trying to be as quiet as she could, her ragged breathing seemed to echo in the bedroom. House moved his hand to reach around her, drawing her into him. She turned to face him, and buried her face in his neck.

"She might not need surgery," he said.

"It's not just Mia."

House closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head and sighed.

"If you don't go through with the nephrectomy, I'm going to lose you in less than two months. And if, God forbid, something should happen to Mia during her surgery, I'll be left alo…." A fresh wave of tears wracked her body.

"Mia's young; she'll be just fine."

"And what about you?"

"The nephrectomy would just prolong the agony. I don't want to spend what time I have left puking my guts out and too tired to move; what's the point?"

Cuddy opened her eyes and cupped his face in her hands. They stared long and deep into one another's eyes and the weight of his decision rested in his piercing blue eyes. She ran her thumb across his cheek and leaned in to brush her lips to his. Pulling away, she once again locked her gaze with his. "It would give us more time."

House shook his head, and turning his head away, he hid his face in the pillow as he forced himself not to breakdown in front of Cuddy; she was worried enough without adding his abject fear to her list of concerns. After so many times of nearly losing his life, he'd finally grown to accept that he wasn't ready to give it up and now life was biting back, tormenting him with his own mortality.

Upon seeing his anguish, and the effort to which House tried to stifle his own feelings, Cuddy was overwhelmingly reminded of just why she loved him so much; he had a beautiful, albeit well hidden and rarely exhibited, soul.

Reaching for his face once again, she rested her hand against his ear. "Hey, it's okay."

He shook his head.

"Yes it is; it's okay to feel this. Look at me."

Unable to breathe into the pillow anyway, he lifted his head to look at her and despite her puffy eyes, tousled hair and tear stained face, House was still enamored of her beauty, just as much as he was the first day they'd met. They'd danced around one another for so long, even after they had been so close, but he knew that trust resided at the heart of this relationship and he relied on it. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded.

"You'll have the surgery?"

He stared at her momentarily before he nodded in again, never so scared in all his life. It was not death that he feared; it was the burden he knew he would become. He feared the absence of life and of Cuddy, of Mia and Wilson. He feared the presence of additional pain and of knowing what was to come medically. He wished he had never entered the medical profession; instead wishing for the ignorance of newfound cancer patients, unaware of the pain and treatment that lie ahead.

House pulled her in for a kiss and her eyes filled with tears. They eventually fell asleep in one another's arms sometime in the wee hours of the morning, having danced on the edge of oblivion.

_______


	12. Chapter 12

I left a huge chunk out of chapter ten. I've gone back in and added it to the end. It relates to something in this chapter. Thanks to Avidreadergirl for pointing it out!

Chapter 12

"Mom?" Mia asked, as she poked her head just inside the guest bedroom door around six o'clock the following morning. With wide eyes, Mia gasped as she shook her head and before she could close the door, both Cuddy and House were staring at her. Cuddy tried to wiggle out of the arm that House had wrapped around her middle, but he had a firm grip and refused to let go.

"Mia, come here, sweetie. It's okay."

"Good morning, Mom." Mia then looked at House and hissed, "_Dad_."

"Don't take that tone of voice, Mia Rose Cuddy! Get back here and apologize to your uncle!" Cuddy shouted as Mia disappeared down the hall.

A distant, "No! He's not my uncle," could be heard from somewhere near the kitchen.

"Let her go," House said.

"She's known for a long time that you and I…."

"Do the horizontal mambo?"

"House!"

"She's not five anymore. She knows, Cuddy; she's known for a time. Give her some credit."

Cuddy smirked. "She knows what?"

He smiled briefly before he leaned in for a morning kiss. "That I'll never call you Lisa and you'll never call me Greg."

She sighed, "Go get in the shower."

"Yes, Mommy."

Cuddy threw the covers over his head and clambered out of bed to chase after her daughter while House headed for the shower.

_______

"You should just get married; the two of you have been together since I was a little kid. It's embarrassing when my friends see you two kiss. They know I call him Uncle House. How weird is that to have my mom kiss my uncle?"

Cuddy rested a hand on Mia's shoulder. "Mia, it's complicated."

"It's complicated. Yeah it's complicated; you're both too stubborn to admit how much you love each other."

"Mia, we are not having this conversation. Go get ready, we're running late."

Mia shrugged out of Cuddy's hand, whipping around to look at her mom. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of calling him Dad? Do you?"

"I know, sweetheart. I do."

"Does he?" Mia asked, before she slammed her bathroom door in Cuddy's face. Locking it, Cuddy had little choice but to get ready herself before the early appointment with McMillan.

_______

"We have to tell her."

"No."

"House, she has a right to know; especially now."

"I said no."

"It's her dream."

House forcefully set his toothbrush back into the cabinet inside the master bathroom. "The deal was I'd legally be her parent in name only, nothing more."

"We both know you're more to her than that. Why are you fighting this?"

"Think about it-she won't have lost an uncle, she'll have lost a dad."

House limped away, leaving Cuddy standing there with her toothbrush in one hand and toothpaste in the other, her mouth agape. Fairly confident that House had just admitted that he wanted Mia to call him dad, Cuddy brushed her teeth, and decided that this particular morning was not the time to argue about the matter.

_______

"If you keep staring at me like I'm going to fall over any second, my team's going to know something's up."

Wilson averted his eyes. "Sorry, it's just you look…well, you look good."

"Don't sound so surprised; I'm not dead yet."

"That's not funny."

"It's the truth," House said, gathering up various patient files from his desk.

"What time will McMillen be here?"

House heaped the files into a haphazard stack and motioned for Wilson to carry them into the conference room. He followed Wilson carrying only a mug of coffee and his cane. "Ten minutes."

"And Cuddy?"

"Mia's having a freak-out session in the crying girl's room. Open heart surgery isn't something Cuddy can just kiss and make better."

"Poor kid."

House ran his hand down his face and took a seat at the conference table. Once again, he paged Cameron and waited for a reply as Wilson waited near the door.

"You should go home."

"I thought you said I was looking hot."

Wilson half-chuckled. "I said you looked good; you still look tired."

House raised his eyebrows. "Ever think that maybe the two are related?"

Wilson watched Cuddy and Mia approach from the far end of the hall and glancing back at House's trademark smirk, and he knew. "You've only been there for one night. I don't think you should…." Wilson stopped speaking as Cuddy appeared at the doorway. She gave Wilson a gentle squeeze on the elbow as she gently pushed a teary-eyed Mia into the room. Cuddy looked between the two men and closed her eyes, blushing slightly at what she knew had been the most recent topic of conversation.

Mia sat on the other side of House, rolled her chair over to him and wrapped her arm around his. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes; he didn't pull away.

"I'm scared."

"You'll be fine. Cameron's on her way up here to take you down for the MRI and echocardiogram."

"Thanks."

"For what?" House asked, looking down at her.

"For making Cameron do it and not one of the guys."

"Can't have the guys ogling my niece."

Mia smiled half-heartedly as she pulled her arm away; she knew House wouldn't allow such public displays of affection in front of anyone other than her mom or Wilson.

"Good morning," McMillen said as she breezed into the room.

Wilson smiled at her before he shot the others a quick nod. "I'll talk with you later."

"Bye Wilson," Cuddy said before she turned her attention to McMillen. "I wish we could have seen you under more pleasant circumstances."

"I agree. So, what's this I hear about your heart acting up, Mia?"

"It's really not that bad."

"Let me be the judge of that," McMillen said as she wheeled her chair beside Mia's, stethoscope in hand. She listened to her heart for several minutes as Cuddy and House looked on in silence. Cameron appeared at the doorway as McMillen finished listening to Mia's heart. "Okay, we need the echo and MRI before we can make any decisions, so off you get with Cameron while I talk with your mom." Mia said nothing but followed Cameron for a pair of tests she was not unfamiliar with.

House turned to McMillen. "Pulmonary valve."

"Most likely."

"How soon?" he asked, rushing the conversation.

Cuddy placed her hand on House's arm. "House."

McMillen sighed, "Depending on the test results, as soon as next week, or possibly not for a month or more."

"If it's next week, can you fit her in this weekend?"

"House," Cuddy repeated. "Things will work out."

Karen McMillen set her pen down and looked him in the eye. "When's your surgery?"

"Tuesday. Mia doesn't know."

McMillen nodded. "If we have to, I can fit her in on Sunday. Okay?"

House stood up. "Yeah," he said as he walked towards the door. "Page me when Cameron gets the results in."

_______

"Why are you here?" Wilson asked, looking confused.

"Your couch looked lonely."

"Aren't you supposed to be sitting in on Mia's consult?"

"I sat. Now I'm lying down." House leaned back on the couch, placing his feet up on the end as he closed his eyes and tossed his pager to Wilson. "Wake me up when they page me."

"Did you and Cuddy really…?"

"Shhhh. Dying cancer patient trying to sleep."

"Not funny."

"What part of shhhh don't you understand?"

_______

McMillen replaced the films back into the sleeve before pushing them across the table to Cuddy. "Okay Mia, so two weeks from tomorrow, I'll see you at my office to go over your surgery."

"Are you sure the valve has to be replaced?"

"It's weak, and though it's not giving you too much trouble right now, it should be replaced within the next month or so. The sooner the better. Three weeks gives you time to go to your winter dance and then we'll get you all fixed up. You're going to be just fine."

"Mia, sweetie, why don't you go to Wilson's office and tell House to come back in here? If he's sleeping, wake him up but do it gently."

"Okay, Mom."

_______

"Hi, Mia," Wilson said as she walked into his office.

"I'm supposed to get Uncle House."

"I figured," Wilson stood from his desk. "I've got a patient in just a few minutes. Are you okay here?"

"Sure, I'm fine."

"How's your heart?"

Mia held her breath, trying not to cry. "They're going to replace a valve in about three weeks."

Wilson walked towards the door and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "If you need anything," he paused, trying not to give away too much, "you know, to talk, spend the night with Shelby, Chris and me, or whatever, I'm here."

"Thanks, Uncle Wilson," she said as she gave him a hug.

"I'll see you later, Mia, Mia, Bo Bia." As he expected, his words made her smile and he returned the gesture before closing the door on his way out.

Mia approached House and knelt beside him, carefully placing her hand on his shoulder. He was genuinely asleep, not feigning rest as he sometimes did when he didn't want to help clean the dishes after dinner. She thought he looked a little thinner, maybe a little paler than usual and Mia wondered if his seizure had left him weaker than she'd originally thought. At the same time, she was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude, thankful that he was fine; thankful he'd be there to take care of her before and after her surgery, just as he always had when she was sick.

"Uncle House?" she whispered. She shook his shoulder a bit and repeated his name.

"Wilson, your voice has changed."

Rolling her eyes, she lightly slapped his arm. "He had a patient. Mom says you can go back now."

"So?"

Mia waited for House to sit up and she sat next to him on the couch. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, afraid she'd start crying. "Three weeks."

"Pulmonary valve?"

"You were right."

"Aren't I always?"

Mia half smiled. "No."

"You'll be fine."

Mia hoped he wouldn't say those words, but he did and then the tears came; not sobbing tears, but silent ones, tears that told House that maybe she didn't know she'd be fine. He put his arm around her and pulled her close and she buried her face into his shoulder, finally releasing the tears that had threatened to fall during the meeting with McMillen.

"You'll be there, right? You'll be there for the surgery and when I wake up?" Mia looked up at him.

Hesitating only for a second, he nodded.

_______

House returned to his office and found Cuddy waiting for him. "Don't you have some kind of administratorly stuff to do?"

"Mia, go wait in my office."

"But Mom."

"No buts, go."

Cuddy walked over to House, picked up his hand and pulled him into his office as soon as Mia was gone. "Sit," she said, pushing him backwards into his chair.

"Is this some sort of kinky office sex?"

Cuddy sighed, "You need to tell your team something; Kutner suspects something's up. Hand over whatever files you need to and we're leaving here at a quarter to noon to get you up to New York General for your pre-op."

"And do I have _any_ say in the matter?"

"No."

"Do I get a lollipop if I'm a good boy at the doctor's?"

Cuddy chuckled as she watched him rifle through his desk drawer. "If you are a good boy at the doctor's, I think I might keel over from shock."

"That could be fun if you're not wearing any underwear when you fall."

Cuddy gave him a warning look. "Talk to your team. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby at 11:45."

_______

"Is it true? Are you really taking a month off?" Taub asked.

"Does Cuddy lie?"

"According to you, everybody does." Foreman said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Foreman poured House a cup and set in front of him but House neither made any sort of grateful acknowledgement, nor drank the coffee.

"Wilson's shoving a pain therapist down my throat in Boston and when he's done, I'll be back here to make sure McMillen doesn't screw up Mia's valve replacement."

Kutner's eyes widened. "Mia needs another heart surgery?"

"Hmmm, McMillen, valve replacement and Mia seem to indicate heart surgery."

"When did this come about?" Kutner asked.

House's plan of misdirecting his team from his own supposed pain therapy treatment to Mia's genuine heart surgery, worked. "This morning. Seems everybody does lie, including Mia. She told Cuddy her heart was fine when it clearly wasn't." House took a deep breath, ready to give orders and end this conversation as quickly as possible. "Foreman, take this guy," he said, passing him a file. "Two seizures in less than two hours, no history of epilepsy and his pinky's turning black. Thought the homie might like to welcome him to the neighborhood."

Foreman half-heartedly shot him a smirk. "Aren't you going to drink that?" Foreman asked, motioning towards the coffee.

"No. Part of the new regime includes no caffeine." Not waiting to see if his lie would stick, House continued, "Kutner, you have the high honor of acting as whiteboard marker-keeper. Cameron, you're in charge of the minions; make sure they don't kill anyone or rob me of my porn stash." House headed towards the door. "Call me when and only when a patient plans to die within 10 minutes or less, if Kutner loses the marker, or if Carmen Electra shows up as a patient. I won't answer my phone on Tuesday so don't call; Cuddy's having a bikini wax and I get to tear the strips off." And with that, House left them looking slightly disturbed as he limped towards the elevator bay.

_______


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for sticking with this story if you're still reading and thanks for reviewing! I've started a writing class and it's taking up a lot of my time. I'll try to get these chapters out as fast as I can.

Chapter 13

"You know my history."

"It's standard procedure, House; just answer the nurse's questions. And don't argue with her when she asks you to sit in the wheelchair to take you down for your chest x-ray and ECG. Just get into the chair and do what they ask you to do."

House made a childish face at Chase. "But Daddy, I want you to run the tests."

"Can't, hospital prototcol. Stop whining; I'll see you after you're through. You haven't eaten anything since 10 pm last night, right?"

"Nope. Cuddy here's been starving me." House stuck his thumb inside his waistband and pulled his pants out. "See, down two sizes."

Chase was stunned by the truth to House's words; it was obvious just how much he had lost. "Make sure he eats something before Tuesday," he said to Cuddy.

"Thanks, Chase," she called out as he walked away.

"What are you thanking him for? He shows up just to tell me he won't be here?"

Cuddy placed her hand on House's arm, and in a patronizing tone she said, "You'll be just fine, sweetheart. Mommy's going to be here the whole time."

"Even for the urine test?"

"Do you want me to hold the cup for you?" She mocked.

"No, I'll hold the cup; you can hold me."

She sighed, "_You_ are a dirty old man. Shut up, the nurse is coming."

"Hey, whoever said I was old?"

_______

Cuddy turned onto the highway and glanced at House, who sat in the passenger seat with his head resting against the window. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was not yet asleep. She didn't dare ask if he was okay; she could only imagine that after the long day that he was exhausted from the ordeal and given how tired he'd been for the past several days, she was surprised he wasn't outright snoring.

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask."

"You were thinking it, though."

"How do you do that?"

"I know you."

Cuddy smiled just a bit, but kept her focus on the road.

"Are you smiling?"

She quickly wiped the smile from her face, annoyed at just how well he did know her. "No."

"Liar."

"What are we going to tell Mia?"

"Well, she already knows about Santa Claus."

"What?"

"I don't want to lie to her."

"What about her heart?"

"What about it?"

"It's not exactly strong."

"I seem to remember you telling me she's not stupid and that she'd figure it out. I'm not going to lie to her. Her heart will be fine."

"You lie to everyone else. Why is this so difficult?"

He finally opened his eyes to look at her, though she kept her eyes on the road. "And what happens if I die on the table? How will you explain that to her? Mia, sweetie, your uncle died today. Sorry the last thing he ever said to you was a lie."

They rode in silence for nearly half an hour, House with his eyes shut, Cuddy with an overly tight grip on the steering wheel. Not knowing how to respond, she said nothing. Though she thought he was being overly dramatic, she hated that he was right.

_______

Nearing Wilson and Shelby's place, Cuddy pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center and parked the car in the last row nearest the street to give her time to talk while House was held captive. He rolled his eyes and sighed as the car rocked backwards into a full stop.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

Not expecting such a question, House fumbled for a response. "I…I uh, what?"

Her shoulders dropped. Cuddy knew he wasn't the type to just come out and say it but she had hoped given the circumstances, he might just admit it. She always imagined it to be true, though with that response, she wondered now. Nodding, she watched the cars pass by on the street in front of them. The light changed to red and she suddenly found herself watching an older couple in a blue truck waiting for the light to change. She wondered if they were happy; if he'd confessed his love to her when they were young. Cuddy's hands were still on the steering wheel, at the ten and two o'clock positions and she stared at her ring finger; the absence of a ring reminded her of the one thing she'd failed at. She looked up at the couple in the truck and wondered if the woman in the passenger seat had a ring on her left hand; if she squealed in delight when he'd asked her, if she'd confessed her love for him after she said yes. She wondered if that moment was as amazing as she'd always imagined it to be.

Unable to look at House, she stared at the RPM meter on the dashboard. "I didn't really expect you to say yes. Do you love Mia?"

House looked out of the passenger side window, his eyes focusing on a teenaged boy, walking a golden retriever across the street. "What do you think?"

"I know what I think. I want to know how you feel."

"She's more than my niece; you know that."

"Would it kill you to tell her that…." Cuddy shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. "If you don't…if we lose…what if Mia never gets the chance to know just how much she means to you?"

"She knows, Cuddy."

"It's nice to hear it once in a while." Cuddy looked out of her own window, not really focusing on anything.

"Are we going to sit here all night?"

"Don't say anything until Monday night; she doesn't need to worry about this all weekend."

"Fine."

Cuddy heaved a big sigh, dropped her hand to the hand-brake in between the seats and prepared to drive. House rested his hand on top of hers. "Come on, let me drive the rest of the way."

"You're too tired."

"Out."

She studied him briefly before agreeing. They swapped sides and once they were settled, Cuddy looked at him with a small smile.

"What are you grinning like that for?"

"Here," she said, passing him a red lollipop. "You were a very good boy at the doctor's."

His eyebrows shot up as his own smile made a brief appearance and before she could blink, the lollipop was in his mouth.

_______

The evening had been uneventful; Cuddy told Mia that she had to take House to New York General for a meeting on Monday evening and that she'd be back late the next day. She left it vague, not quite lying to her but not quite telling her the truth either. Mia was old enough to stay home alone, but Cuddy suggested she invite Sarah over, or if Sarah asked, she could spend the night at Sarah's.

It was decided that they'd surprise Mia on Monday by taking her out to breakfast instead of to school and they would spend the day together picking out new video games and movies for House's convalescence. Cuddy had balked at a day of missed school, but House swiftly convinced her that in the grand scheme of things, one day wouldn't result in her flunking out, and given the news Mia would hear that morning, she likely wouldn't be able to focus on her studies anyway.

Due to House's insistence, Shelby was still unaware of his cancer diagnosis, despite Wilson's protests. House had also insisted that Wilson not be there for the surgery. Wilson bartered a compromise: he wouldn't tell Shelby about the cancer provided he was allowed to accompany Cuddy and House to New York General. House finally conceded.

Cuddy tucked her feet under the covers and picked up a thick novel she'd been meaning to start. House watched her get settled in. She apparently hadn't seen him standing there. "Goodnight," he said from the doorway.

She looked up at him, saddened a bit at how worn he looked. "Come here."

"Who, me? Wouldn't want to scar a certain teenaged girl for life if she found out her parents actually sleep together."

Cuddy's breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled with tears, though none fell. She set her book down and looked at him.

"What?"

"You just called us her parents."

Not realizing his own words, House paused momentarily while trying to come up with a cover. "Well, legally, we are."

"You didn't mean that legally."

"Maybe I did," he said defiantly, as he approached her bed.

"But you didn't."

House sat on the edge of her bed and swung his legs over, instantly rolling onto his stomach so that he could look at her. "Maybe I didn't."

They looked at one another, each studying the other, waiting for the next move. Cuddy caved in the silence. "Why did you agree to the surgery?"

"Maybe going under the knife is my secret kink."

"Maybe if I was holding the scalpel, but I don't buy it with Chase as your surgeon."

House shrugged and rolled over onto his back, leaving a wide gap between them. Staring at the ceiling, he visually traced the swirled design on the ceiling, becoming somewhat lost in its pattern. "Do you love me?"

Cuddy inhaled deeply at his question, surprised to hear him ask something she herself had pondered often. She turned onto her side and propped her head up onto her elbow, resting her other hand on his chest. "Do you even need to ask?"

"You asked me first."

"I did."

"Now I'm asking you. Is all this just because I'm about to go under the knife and you're acting out of pity for the poor old cripple?"

Cuddy sighed as she placed her head onto his chest while staring at his chin. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I love you. I've always loved you. I hate you too, but more than anything, I love you."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Maybe I want to repent my sins and seek salvation."

"And Elvis is miraculously still alive."

"Just answer the question."

"I hate that you don't think you're good enough to be with me."

"We'd never work."

"See."

"You'd be sick of me in less than a week."

"Yeah well, now you're stuck with me until you're in remission."

"We'll see about that."

"Yes, we will," she said, moving her head from his chest to his shoulder. She curled into him, resting her hand on his chest again.

House intertwined his fingers with hers and he yawned deeply. He didn't want to argue and he was too tired to come up with anything witty or up to his usual pluck, so he closed his eyes and like a child, wished he'd wake up weeks after his surgery, past the pain and worry.

His path to slumber was interrupted when she whispered, "I wonder what would have happened all those years ago, if we'd…."

He squeezed her hand and in that moment between dreamland and consciousness, where the line of coherent thought becomes fuzzy, he sleepily said, "Yeah."

_______

House didn't join them for breakfast on Sunday morning. Mia was suspicious. She knew House could sleep for hours on end in the large recliner in the family room, but she'd never known him to spend nearly a full day in it as he had the day before, much less without arguing for the remote. She thought he still looked pale, and Mia was certain she'd seen her mom look at House with genuine concern several times that day. At lunch, Cuddy ordered his favorite pizza and Mia's worry spiked when he'd barely eaten half of one small piece.

That evening, she'd overheard them speaking when she went downstairs for a glass of water and it was then that she knew something was wrong and she was suddenly made aware of something she had long suspected.

"_Where's the key?"_

"_What key, House? Calm down, what are you talking about?"_

"_Didn't you pack the key? I left it out on the bed."_

"_I didn't see a key."_

"_I need the damned key."_

"_What key are looking for? Your car keys are downstairs on the hook in the garage."_

_Though Mia couldn't see them through the closed door, she knew her uncle was busily searching through all of his things by the sounds of loud rustling and the occasional thump of a dropped book from inside the guest room. His tone was frantic, unlike anything she'd ever heard from House, and that tone scared Mia to death._

"_The key that opens the locked piano bench that has all of Mia's adoption paperwork in it."_

"_You don't need to worry about that paperwork; I have a copy in my closet."_

"_There's more in that piano bench than just that. I have to give something to Wilson."_

"_What do you have to give to him?"_

"_The damned key."_

"_Why? Why now?"_

"_I need to go home and find it."_

"_You're not going out there tonight; you're pale as a ghost and it's late. I'll take you first thing in the morning."_

_Mia retreated to her room when she heard the fear in her mom's voice._

_______

"Uncle House is still sick, isn't he?" Mia asked as she cleared her breakfast dishes on Monday morning.

Not wanting to betray House and divulge his secret without his presence, Cuddy simply said, "He's not feeling well right now."

"Is he too sick for me to work on my bucket list project today?"

"We'll see if he's up to it a little later, okay?"

"You're hiding something from me."

"Mia, I have to take House back to his apartment; we'll talk about this when we get back, alright?"

Mia pursed her lips, frustrated. "I guess. You wouldn't lie to me if he was really sick, would you?"

"Let's go," House's gruff voice said from the entry way to the kitchen.

Cuddy gave Mia a quick kiss on the cheek. "We'll be back in an hour or two."

_______

"What's in the piano bench?" Cuddy asked on the way to House's apartment.

"None of your business."

"You don't have to be so quick to bite. Could you slow down please? The key's probably sitting right where you left it; it's not going anywhere and I'd like to get there in one piece."

"Sorry."

"Did you just apologize?"

"Don't act so surprised. It happens."

"Not often."

"Consider it a gift."

"Did you hear Mia this morning?"

"She's too damned smart for her own good."


	14. Chapter 14

Here's the next chapter. This part was fun to write, hope you enjoy it. Thought I'd post it early (3:30am early!) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 14

As soon as her mom's car rounded the corner and sped off towards House's apartment, Mia took off for Cuddy's closet. She kept her cell phone in her pocket, intending to call her mom periodically just to be sure she wouldn't come home early while Mia was snooping through her closet.

The conversation between House and Cuddy was fresh in her mind; she had spent half the night wondering why House had a copy of her adoption paperwork. Originally, she thought that maybe her mom had given him a duplicate copy for safe keeping, but Mia knew Cuddy kept a second set of all her important documents in the safety deposit box at the bank. With her curiosity heightened, Mia began searching through the filing cabinet in her mom's walk-in closet.

Cuddy had informed Mia of her adoption before she could understand what it meant and she grew up knowing that she had both a birth mom and a forever mom. She had seen the pictures of her birth mom, but preferred not to look at them. She knew her birth mom died and as far as she was concerned, Cuddy was her mother, her only mother.

Reaching her adoption file, Mia pulled it out and searched through the familiar contents, but found nothing unusual. Setting it carefully back where she'd found it, Mia was about to close the drawer when a large manila envelope caught her attention. It was wedged beneath the files themselves, and only a corner poked through at the very rear of the cabinet drawer. She gently tugged at it, and once it was free, Mia took it out to the living room to examine the contents.

Inside, she found a copy of her birth certificate; it was an amended copy, one she had not seen before. Mia unconsciously covered her mouth with her hand, when she read "Gregory House" in the box marked "father".

_______

House clutched the key as if they were his lifeline for the briefest of moments before his self-chastising kicked in. He felt ridiculous losing control over a simple key. He walked to the bathroom, rinsed his face and glared at the mirror, almost not recognizing the old man looking back at him. He'd let his cancer diagnosis color his thoughts and he wondered what he was doing with Cuddy. Again.

Taking the key, he limped back to the living room and unlocked the piano bench. House tossed his passport to one side, ran his fingers over the large envelope with Mia's adoption paperwork in it and shuffled the other items, double checking to make sure everything was exactly where he'd left them. Closing the lid, he locked it, double-checked it to be sure the lid was locked tight and tucked the key into his jacket pocket.

_______

Tears of mixed emotions streaked her face as Mia stared at the once mysterious envelope that she now knew held a secret that had been kept from her since she was five years old. She couldn't understand why they'd keep it from her. His signature on the adoption decree was her most heartfelt dream come true, but she wondered why it left her feeling empty.

Greg House was her dad. Her real dad. _Dad_. She loved the sound of it. He was hers and she was his. And yet, she wondered if he was ashamed of her, if he was too embarrassed to admit to the world that she was his. At some point, he had decided to adopt her, but why hide it?

Mia thought about the day House had caught her kissing Kyle in front of her school, and the time she'd nearly been hit by a car at a monster truck rally by mistakenly stepping out into the parking lot's busy traffic before it was safe; and she thought about the time she got lost in the shopping mall. She remembered House's reaction to each of those events. He'd been angry, or so she thought. Now however, Mia realized he'd been scared, like a parent would be for a child. He'd acted like her parent, her dad.

Mia's cell phone buzzed in her pocket, causing her to jump. "Hello?"

"We're stopping for deli sandwiches on the way home. Do you want anything?" Cuddy asked.

"No."

"Are you okay? You sound like you're crying."

"Fine."

"We should be home in about half an hour."

Her heart once again doing flip-flops, Mia snapped her cell phone shut and quickly replaced the paperwork back into the filing cabinet exactly as she found it, all the while debating whether or not she should broach the subject with her…parents.

_______

Cuddy unpacked the sandwiches, chips and soda as House retreated to the guest bathroom. She purchased a sandwich for Mia anyway, knowing she'd probably want one despite saying otherwise on the phone. Mia did that frequently; her mom would offer to bring her something from a restaurant, Mia would say no and then she'd pick off everyone else's plate once the food was in the house.

"I said I didn't want anything."

"You always say that. If you don't want your turkey sandwich, put it in the fridge."

"I'm not very hungry."

House appeared at the doorway. "You didn't eat your breakfast."

"I ate part of it. You didn't even try to eat anything for breakfast."

House shrugged. "Why aren't you hungry?"

"Why aren't you?"

"I asked you first."

"My stomach hurts."

Cuddy placed her hand on Mia's forehead. "The flu's going around. Maybe you've got a stomach bug. You're not running a fever."

"I don't think that's it."

Mia waited until both House and Cuddy were seated at the kitchen table before she decide to confront them with what she'd found. "I know you're lying to me."

She didn't need to turn around to know that House was staring intently at Cuddy. The silence in the room was almost overwhelming and with that silence came confirmation.

"Mia, sweetie, come sit down."

"I overheard you last night."

Cuddy nervously glanced at House, waiting for him to make the first move, wondering if Mia already knew his diagnosis. House closed his eyes briefly and looked down at the sandwich he had no intention of eating. "Sit down, Mia."

The tension in the room left Mia feeling confused; the tone was somber, certainly not what she would expect given he was about to announce that she knew he was her legal father. She sat between them and picked at the sandwich in front of her, hoping the mood would change for the better.

"Look at me," House said.

Mia couldn't quite bring herself to look up at him, at her dad. The sound of that word as she wordlessly said it over and over to herself, gave Mia the courage to meet his gaze.

"Your mom is taking me to New York General tomorrow night."

"I know that."

"What you don't know," House said with a raised brow, annoyed that she'd interrupted him, "is that I'm having surgery on Tuesday morning."

Mia looked at him in shock and turned to her mom for reassurance and a few comforting words explaining House's cruel joke. Her heart dropped when her mom only nodded in agreement.

"What for?"

"They're removing a kidney."

"Why?"

"It needs to come out."

"But why does it need to come out?"

"Because it can't stay in."

"Uncle House!" she yelled, not daring to call him dad just yet.

"House," Cuddy warned.

"Wilson said something about cancer, but you know, he's an oncologist; they typically see cancer in everything. If I'd have gone to Foreman, I'm sure he would have thought it was all in my mind, Cameron would have thought it was autoimmune and Kutner would have suggested physical therapy. No idea what the lowly minions would have suggested; I avoid them as much as possible."

Mia shook her head as she processed and filtered what House had just said. "Cancer?" she whispered. She furrowed her brow as she tried to get House to look her in the eye. His gaze remained focused on his untouched sandwich. "Is that why you sleep all the time? Don't eat?" Mia closed her eyes. "That's why you're staying here. Your place isn't being fumigated."

She hadn't forgotten what she thought they were lying to her about. However with this new revelation, confronting House and her mom about his name on her birth certificate, suddenly seemed unimportant. "Is it terminal?"

"Well, at least she's blunt," House said.

"Mia, Uncle House will have surgery," Cuddy locked eyes with House, her words more for him than Mia, "and he _will_ have radiation when he's well enough."

"You didn't answer me. Is it terminal?"

"So, who's hungry?" House asked as he began to unwrap his sandwich.

Mia looked back and forth between House and Cuddy, growing angrier with each passing second. "Answer me! How serious is this?"

Cuddy placed her hand on Mia's arm. "Don't get upset, Mia. Remember your heart."

Mia stood from her seat, pulled her arm out of her mother's grasp and slammed her hand on the kitchen table with all her might. "How long?"

House sighed, growing tired of being the topic of everyone's concern. "Mia-"

"No. Don't Mia me. I finally know. I finally have…you here," she said, unsure of why she couldn't just admit to finding the adoption paperwork. Tears now formed as she held the hand she'd hit the table with, her palm red and sore. Her thoughts became rampant fragments of conversations lost and everything she wanted to say suddenly disappeared before reaching the tip of her tongue. "Who's going to take me to piano?" she asked, knowing it was an irrational question, but she was unable to adequately voice her true thoughts.

"Gimme," House said, motioning towards her hand.

She snatched her hand away. "No. Stop avoiding the question. How serious is this?"

He pursed his lips, averted his eyes and tried to come up with a plausible answer that would ease her mind without skirting the truth; he couldn't find one.

"Serious," he whispered.

"How could you keep this from me? You mean more to me than some guy my mom dated once, you know. I'll never think of anyone else as my dad." Mia's eyes widened with that revelation; she hadn't meant to reveal that truth. Feeling overwhelmed, and acutely aware that her heart was beating too fast, Mia turned on her heel and escaped to her bedroom, leaving Cuddy and House alone at the table.

"Well, that went well," House said as he rewrapped his sandwich.

"Go talk to her."

"I don't wanna," he whined.

Cuddy stood next to House, placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to whisper into his ear. "You can't avoid her; she won't let you."

House watched Cuddy head towards the master bedroom and he called out after her, "I've died and moved to the land of estrogen." And under his breath, he muttered, "More like PMS hell."

_______

He didn't bother knocking; he knew she was waiting for him. House walked into the oversized attic, nearly tripped over Red, who was asleep in the middle of the floor, and took a seat on Mia's bed. Mia was curled up on her side, eyes closed, though he knew she was awake.

Without saying anything, he picked up her hand and placed an ice pack on it, gently examining the area as he did so. "Anything feel broken?"

Mia shifted under the covers just a bit. "No."

House pressed his fingers to her wrist, taking her pulse. "Flip-flops?"

"A couple."

"Have they stopped?"

"Kind of."

"Move over. Those stairs are a bitch."

Mia oopened her eyes to look at him, again on the verge of tears with the thought that her beloved uncle, her _dad_, was more than just a little sick. She could handle a cold, or flu, or even a minor hospital stay, like the time he had surgery on his bad leg in an attempt to repair some of the nerve endings as part of a clinical trial. But cancer was a far more frightening word. She inched away, remaining under the covers as a means to hide her face if she wanted to.

House leaned his back against the headboard and placed a pillow under his right leg for support. He reached down to the floor and picked up a pillow sham with lavender flowers and cream colored lace on it. He placed it between them and propped Mia's hand on top of the pillow, elevating it with the ice still setting on her palm.

"Are you going to die?"

"Everybody does."

"Sooner than later?"

"Probably."

"How soon?"

"If I didn't have the surgery, probably in less than two months."

"And with surgery and radiation?"

"Maybe three months, maybe a decade."

"So the seizure, it was because of the cancer?"

House nodded.

Mia finally found the courage to look up at him. "Are you scared?"

"To die? No."

"What are you scared of?"

House wanted to tell her that he was scared he'd never find the courage to voice how much he loved her. He wanted to tell her he was scared what his death would do to Cuddy and Wilson, of the pain he knew lay ahead, of dying alone in a hospital when Cuddy or Wilson or even Shelby were out fetching a cup of coffee. He was scared to tell her that he was legally her dad, that he might not be there when she woke from her heart surgery. But what scared him the most, was that he would wake up on the other side, only to be joined by Mia far before her time, leaving Cuddy completely alone.

Even with death's potential imminence, he could not voice his concerns, and certainly not to Mia, so he relied on an old standby. He lied. "Nurse Brenda."

Mia chuckled but only to break the silence. "Do you know what I'm scared of?"

House closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to know. "What?"

"Dying without ever knowing what it's like to call someone 'Dad'."

"Your surgery is going to go just fine; you're young, it's a common procedure and McMillen's good."

Mia shook her head. "That's not what I mean; I don't think I'm going to die from my surgery. Do you really think Mom's ever going to find anyone other than you? Don't you know how much she loves you?"

House sighed, frowned at her words and stared blankly at her in silence.

"You used to let me call you Daddy."

"You were five years old."

"And now I'm 15. My feelings haven't changed."

"Fine," House said, more in an effort to get her to stop pestering him about the subject, than anything else.

Mia stared at him, mouth agape. "Did you just say fine?"

"Want me to take it back?"

"I…uh… no."

"Then stop bugging me about it."

Mia looked up at him and smiled a confused grin, and knowing now was not the time to press his buttons further, she changed the subject. "So, I have to watch this stupid movie and then make a bucket list. Do you want to watch it?"

"I'm too tired to walk back down the stairs. Put it in."

"I'm going to get my sandwich. Want anything?"

"Bring me back half my sandwich, a ginger ale and my pills."

Mia hurried to the television stand, plunked the movie into the player and tossed the remote to House. As she headed towards the door, she turned back briefly. "I'll be right back, _Dad_." She turned away before he had the chance to say anything, allowing the last word to cascade over them both. One simple word left Mia feeling tingly all over, simultaneously sad when she thought about his diagnosis. It left House feeling surprisingly okay with the new name.


	15. Chapter 15

This is an extra long chapter. I couldn't break it in the middle, so here ya go. I've been researching kidney cancer lately...I have shed many tears over this fic and I've gotten myself really good and depressed over it, too. Anyway, thanks for reading & for the reviews.

Ch. 15

Mia loved every second; well, not the movie, but every second she spent watching the movie. And true to form, House fell asleep, though Mia knew that he was sleeping because of his illness, not out of laziness.

"Mom," she whispered as the ending credits began to roll.

"Hmmm?"

"Will he still be this tired after surgery?"

Cuddy looked at her sadly. "He'll be even more tired once the radiation starts. This is nothing; he'll have days when he won't get out of bed." Cuddy gently got out of the bed, pulled the covers up to House's chin and whispered, "Come on, let him sleep."

Mia stood from her chair, stretch and tip-toed around the foot of the bed, being careful not to wake him, and followed Cuddy downstairs into the living room. Cuddy sat on the couch and motioned for Mia to sit with her. Cuddy wrapped an arm around her daughter and pulled her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Remember the time you cut off all your hair?"

Mia smiled. "I looked like a boy."

"I like your hair longer."

"Me, too."

Cuddy inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of all that had happened in the past week, knowing how much more difficult it would become in the coming weeks and months.

"I'm going with you tomorrow."

Cuddy looked at Mia, smiling sadly. "I know."

"You're not going to tell me no?"

Cuddy shook her head. "I knew you'd want to come the second you found out and I'd rather you be with me than sitting here home alone. Wilson and I have booked a hotel room for tomorrow night. You'll have to sleep on the pull-out couch. Pack your bag tonight so we can put it in the car, first thing in the morning so I won't forget it when I pick you up from school." Cuddy set up the lie she and House had devised, knowing Mia wouldn't be going to school on Monday.

Mia rested her head on Cuddy's shoulder. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. And you know he loves you, right?"

"I know. He said I can call him Dad."

Cuddy's eyes filled with tears. Mia began to cry, embarrassed by the choking sobs that made her gasp for air and her non-grown up tears. She had tried so hard to keep it together that morning. She tried not to cry in front of House or her mom, but she couldn't help herself. Cuddy pulled her in close, kissed her forehead and shed the tears that had threatened to fall moments earlier.

They sat together on the couch for an indeterminable amount of time, arms wrapped around each other, fearing for the life of the man who was theirs.

_______

Cuddy sat on the edge of her bed that evening, her back facing House. "Are you ready for this?"

"I don't have much choice."

"You're doing this for Mia, aren't you? So you can be there for her surgery."

House said nothing as Cuddy finally leaned into her pillow, yawning as she drew the covers close. House closed his eyes, and allowed himself to relax in the comfort of her presence.

"You're not going to answer me, are you?"

"No."

Cuddy placed her hand, palm side up, in the gap between them; he placed his hand on top of hers and she gave him a tight squeeze as they both lay flat against the pillows. "I've taken the week off. Wilson's going to take Mia back home with him after the surgery. I've booked a hotel room."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know," she said, sleepily. "I also know you've already booked a hotel room for Mia's surgery."

"You're going to need a place to stay."

"So will you."

_______

Morning brought a thick layer of fog, and with it, a new sense of urgency for Mia. She didn't want to leave House's side; every second spent with him now seemed vital to the young girl who learned her dad, her real dad, had as little as three months to live. It didn't seem fair and as her _parents_ drove her to school that Monday morning.

"Dad," she said with a smile, the feel of the word brought a dollop of sunshine in an otherwise dreary morning, "you missed the turn-off for my school."

"About the dad thing…."

"You said-"

"I wasn't in my right mind."

"You can't take it back."

"How about Pops?"

"Nah." Mia looked at him, noting the furtive smile that arched one side of his mouth; she looked to her mom and saw the same sparkle in her eye. "What's going on?"

"Ever wonder what it's like to play hooky?"

"I…what?"

"Hooky."

"I'm not going to school today?"

"Come on, I raised you better than this," he said with a smirk. "You should be jumping at the chance to skip school."

"I am, I'm just confused." Worry suddenly settled in. "Wait, you're not going to the hospital now, are you?"

"No. We thought we'd spend the day shopping in New York," Cuddy said.

Looking through the rearview mirror, House watched Mia's face light up.

_______

"I can't hold any more," Mia whined as House piled one more movie to the stack of games, books, movies and magazines that Mia was struggling to carry.

"Go get a basket," he said, as he picked up another movie.

Cuddy watched as Mia walked towards the front of the store before she approached House. "Isn't this a bit much?"

"What? This is barely enough to keep me busy for the first two days."

"House, this is enough stuff to keep a small army busy for a month."

"So? Mia can have the games and videos after her surgery."

"I'm not paying for all this."

House smiled as he looked at her. "I got it covered," he said, flashing a credit card.

"That's Wilson's!"

House looked at the face of the card and raised his eyebrows. "Huh, wonder how that got into my wallet?"

"You can't use that."

"You can't stop me."

"House!"

"Cuddy!"

"Mom? What's going on?" Mia asked, as she wheeled the cart full of House's post-operative books and videos towards them.

"_Wilson_ here thinks he should pay with his credit card."

Mia tried to look sternly at House, but she couldn't stifle her chuckle. "He's going to kill you."

"Wilson? Never. He told me he'd rather give me the card then spend a day searching for it," House said with a wide grin.

"I'm calling Wilson," Cuddy said.

"Go ahead. Mia, he said you can pick out anything you want."

"Can I get a couple of notebooks?"

"I just said you can get anything you want, and all you want are notebooks?"

"Yep."

"Wilson's credit card. Free stuff. Use your imagination, Smiagle."

Mia looked at him quizzically, "You haven't called me Smiagle since I can't remember when."

House simply shrugged. "Think big: digital camera, jewelry maybe."

Cuddy looked at Mia as she finished her conversation with Wilson. "You're sure?" She paused and nodded at her daughter. "Okay, thanks Wilson. Talk to you later."

"See, told ya so," House said in a sing-song voice.

"Go ahead Mia, he said get anything."

"I'm going to get two notebooks. I'll be right back!"

House turned to look at Cuddy, an evil glint in his eye. "So, what do you want?"

"I'm not getting anything."

"Oh come on, live a little."

"No."

"We can get you lingerie."

"House!"

He watched her blush and the thrill of embarrassing her in public made him grin just a bit. Wanting to counter her embarrassment with even more torture, House tried to come up with something equally as cheek reddening. He sighed, suddenly feeling drained from the short shopping trip and instead of egging Cuddy on, he simply asked, "Where's Mia?"

Cuddy tucked in her bottom lip and nodded. "I'll go find her. There's a chair against the wall over there." She made certain not to tell him to sit in that chair, for fear he would defy her orders just to be ornery. He didn't argue though and as she walked towards the school supply isle, she saw him sink into the chair.

_______

"Time to go; House is tired."

Mia's bright smile dimmed at the news. "This sucks."

Cuddy knew Mia wasn't referring to the end of the shopping excursion. "Yes, it does," she said, placing her arm around Mia's shoulders.

_______

"I thought Uncle Wilson was coming."

"He's meeting us at the hotel."

Mia turned around in the front passenger seat to look at House, who was sprawled out on the back seat, before looking at her mom again. "He will be okay, right?"

Cuddy glanced at the sleeping House through the rear viewmirror and sighed. "He'll make it through surgery just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

_______

"Where's Wilson?" House asked after a late afternoon nap in the hotel room.

"He's running late; he'll meet us at the hospital in the morning. Chris broke his arm this afternoon."

Not quite awake, House winced as he sat up. "Have you seen my pills?" Cuddy passed the orange canister and a glass of water to him. "How'd he manage that?"

"He was at his swimming lesson and slipped near the pool. Hit his arm on the ledge as he fell in. It was a clean break."

House looked around the hotel room. "Where's Mia?"

"Getting ice."

"Wilson shouldn't come."

Cuddy sat next to him on the bed. "He'll be here. Do you want me to give him the key?"

"No. He'll be here in time."

"What if he isn't?"

"He's Wilson. He'll be here."

"So, do you want Wilson's hotel room tonight or do you want the extra bed in here?"

House looked at her and rolled his eyes. "She already knows we sleep in the same bed."

"But she's never slept in the same room when we did."

"She'll be on the couch out in the living room."

"It doesn't matter."

"Fine, I'll sleep in Wilson's room."

"You don't have to, you just have to sleep in this bed while I sleep in that one."

"Bed nazi."

"Overgrown child."

"If I sucked my thumb, would you tuck me in?"

"No."

"If I sucked _your_ thumb, would you tuck me in?"

Cuddy chuckled. "Mia's back, get your shoes on; I'm hungry and you have to eat before eight tonight."

_______

At five o'clock the next morning, Cuddy peeled House's arm from her collar bone before she silently opened the door to the kitchenette and living room area of the hotel suite to wake Mia up. "Mia, get dressed, we have to leave in half an hour."

"Okay."

_______

"Where's Wilson?" House asked, anxiously.

"He'll be here; he called me from the elevator a few minutes ago."

"I have to give him the key," House repeated for maybe the tenth time.

"Hey, shhhh. He'll be here. You're blood pressure's up; you need to stop worrying about this. Everything will be fine. Just think, you'll be on a morphine drip in just a few hours."

House gave her a half-hearted smile, "Mmmm, morphine."

"See, not so bad, right?"

"I'll let you know after they remove a part of my body that I've had for 63 years."

"Mia wants to talk with you, okay?"

House grimaced. "Now?"

"Yes, now. Tell her you love her; she needs to hear it."

"Just get this over with already."

"I'll be outside."

Cuddy motioned for Mia to enter his hospital room and she gave her daughter a light squeeze on the arm as they passed each other at the doorway. Mia tentatively approached House's bedside, feeling uncomfortable in the same hospital he'd been rushed to only the previous week.

"Hey," she said.

"Stop sniveling; Chase won't screw up."

"I know," she said, tapping her fingers on the rail of his bed.

"You never told me what's on your bucket list. Is your project finished?"

"No, it's not finished. I'll tell you what's on my list tomorrow," she said.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Mia picked at her fingers, unable to look him in the eye. "You don't want to tell me anything on your list? The project's due next week."

"If I tell you what's on my list tomorrow, that gives you a week to write it up."

"Just one?"

House wasn't oblivious to the desperate plea in Mia's voice; a tone he was fairly certain was one of worry for him and not one of concern for her school project. It was merely an excuse to spend just a few extra seconds with him. He pursed his lips and motioned for her to lean in. Glad no one else was in his cubicle to hear it, he whispered, "One thing and then you go back out to the hall."

She nodded vigorously. "Okay, one thing and I'll wait outside."

"A bucket list. Something I want to do before I kick the bucket, right?"

Realizing what the implications meant in the situation, she hastily tried to retract the request. "Yes, but I don't mean that you're going to-"

"I'm giving you a hard time, Smiagle. I don't plan on dying today."

"Sorry."

"First thing on my list," he said, suddenly finding the fibers of the thin hospital blanket of great interest.

"Well?"

House shifted in bed, cleared his throat and mumbled something Mia couldn't make out. She shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders.

House motioned for her to come closer. "C'mere."

Mia leaned in and he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and silently huffed in blissful surprise as tears spilled down her cheeks. Gently, she hugged him.

"Don't write that in your report," he said gruffly.

Mia smiled and shook her head, tears still dripping down her cheeks. "I won't."

Hearing Wilson's voice in the hall, House's eyes were drawn to the doorway. "Tell Wilson I need to talk with him. You and Cuddy need to stay out while he's in here."

Mia leaned in and gave him a kiss on his forehead before rushing out to the hall. She ran into her mother's arms and Wilson headed towards House's room.

"Wilson," Cuddy called out. "Check his blood pressure, it was elevated."

"I will," he said.

Cuddy turned her attention to her daughter, as Mia cried openly and unabashedly. "Did he say anything to you?" Cuddy asked.

"Yes."

Cuddy too began to tear up. "What, sweetie? What'd he say?"

Mia choked out, "He'll see me later."

"Is that all he said?"

"No."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Mia shook her head.

_______

"Chris managed to get out of his swimming lessons, huh?"

Wilson shook his head. "He never wanted to take the lessons in the first place, but I don't think he did it on purpose. They're going to put him in a cast on Thursday." Wilson held up a syringe. "Doctor's orders. You're getting a sedative; your blood pressure's through the roof."

House glared at him as the nurse injected it into his IV. "Smart kid, found the one way he could legitimately get out of swimming-can't get a cast wet."

"Care to talk about anything other than my son's broken arm? You know, like allowing only the pretty nurses to give you a sponge bath in the morning?" The nurse smirked as she walked out of the room.

"Nope. Not interested in talking nephrectomy."

"That's it? Guess I'll go wait out in the hall then." Wilson turned from House and headed towards the door.

Rolling his eyes, House called out, "Wilson, wait."

Wilson walked back to his bedside, smiling smugly. "You make it too easy when you're sick."

"So nice of you to care."

Wilson looked at House and though he tried to keep the mood light, a shiver of fear gave him goose bumps. This was routine surgery, one that was fairly common in his practice, but this was House, not some unknown patient. Logically, he knew he'd be fine, but emotionally, he was a wreck.

"You're not going to pass out are you?" House asked.

Wilson brought his attention back to the present and shook his head. "Did you have something you needed to tell me? Has Chase been in yet?"

"He stopped in earlier. Promised he wouldn't screw up."

"So?"

House lowered his voice as he became somewhat sleepy with the sedative that was starting to kick in. "There's something in my jacket pocket in the bag on the chair. Get it."

"Okay," Wilson said, hesitantly as he picked up the hospital issued plastic bag, filled with House's clothes.

"Left pocket."

"At least you didn't put it in your pant pocket," Wilson said with a smile.

"Why? I'm not wearing any pants."

Wilson chuckled at the telltale sounds of House beginning to succumb to the sedative. Though he never enjoyed watching House in pain, or for any reason requiring a hospital stay, he had to admit that a relaxed, sedative-induced House often led to fun and interesting conversations.

"Which I thankfully can't tell, given you're covered in a blanket."

"Do you have it yet?"

"This key?"

"That's it."

Wilson looked at him with a puzzled expression. "I have a key to your apartment."

"Did I say anything weird yet?" House said, staring around the room.

"Not yet."

"Wasn't sure."

"House, what's the key to?"

"Piano bench."

"Is this a word association game, or is it actually a key to the piano bench?"

"Actual key. I could start over and play twenty questions if you want; not sure I'd be awake by the time you finally figured out what the key's for."

"Just tell me."

"Piano bench."

"You said that already. Why do I need a key to your piano bench?"

"To get what's inside."

"House."

Looking around the room, House yawned as he grew tired. He knew Wilson was still in the room, but his mind drifted to his conversation with Mia. He couldn't remember if he told her he loved her. He thought he had, but he couldn't be sure and he silently cursed himself for not telling her. He meant to. His mind drifted and he wondered if he'd mistakenly told Wilson that he loved him.

"House, don't fall asleep yet, Cuddy hasn't been in here yet."

Opening his eyes wide, House tried to focus on Wilson. "Did I say I love you?" he asked.

"I…no."

"I meant to say I love you," House said in his doped up drawl.

"I love you too, House," Wilson said slowly, with one eyebrow raised.

"Not you, Mia."

"Oh. I'll tell her for you."

"No. Did I tell her?"

"I don't know, but they're going to take you back soon and I need to know what the key's for."

"The piano bench."

Wilson sighed, "What's in the piano bench?"

"Don't open it unless I'm dead."

Wilson's amused expression changed to one of concern. "You're not going to die, House. What's in the bench?"

"Have to see Cuddy."

"I'll be here when you wake up." Wilson pocketed the key, gave his friend a light squeezed on his shoulder and returned to the hall to send Cuddy in. He'd find out what was in the piano bench on his own.

_______

Cuddy kissed House's temple, not caring if he wanted to be kissed or not; she needed to kiss him, more for herself than for House. "I'm here."

He opened his eyes and smiled goofily. "Did you kiss me?"

"Yes."

"Something wrong with my lips?"

She smiled and leaned in to place a quick kiss on his mouth. "Whatever you said to Mia was good, House."

"Did I tell her I loved her?" he asked, still not quite sure what he had said. "Did I just say that out loud?"

Cuddy laughed. "Yes. I don't know what you said to her, but I'm guessing you did."

"Did I tell you I love you?"

She inhaled just a bit. "No."

"Bucket lists suck."

"What?"

"Did I bring the bucket?"

"The sedative is doing its job; your blood pressure is much better."

"Did I tell Mia my bucket list?" he said, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Cuddy was confused, but she decided to push past the nonsense House was spewing and leaned in close to his ear. "Thank you for doing this for Mia." Cuddy wrapped her hand around his, kissing him one last time.

House gave her a slight smile. "This isn't for Mia."

"I thought you did this so you'd be there for her surgery, for her recovery."

"Did you know the ceiling ripples when you squint your eyes?" House stared at the ceiling, opening and partially closing his eyes to illustrate what he meant. "Don't let the nurses take my underwear; I like that pair."

Chuckling through the tears that were beginning to form, Cuddy shook her head. "You should close your eyes and rest; the nurses are waiting to take you in, now."

_______


	16. Chapter 16

Yes, I am planning a fourth and final story to the Mia-verse. It will be a shorter, sort of epilogue. I should mention that I'm not finished writing this story yet, and we're getting very near to the end of what I've written so far. A few more chapters to go and then the updates won't be as often, as I will have to write the chapters as we go (the first 48,000 words were already written when I started posting this). This will be the last update until at least Thursday (going out of town), just wanted to give you a heads up.

**no-mouse:** Thanks for the heads-up on the eye hiccups! They have been corrected.

**bananas . eat . grapes:** Thanks for mentioning the titles! I've had fun coming up with them and you're exactly right about what each of them mean. (sorry about your name, wouldn't let me leave it without the spaces...weird).

As always, thank you so much for reading & reviewing!

**ETA:** No, Cuddy is NOT pregnant. Not sure where this is coming from, but she would be in her mid 50's in this fic. In 'Mine', Cuddy had a history of fainting spells and is, understandably, very stressed...I was just referencing that here.

**Chapter 16**

Wilson, Cuddy and Mia sat in the waiting room in silence for the first hour. Chase had offered Wilson the opportunity to scrub in, but Wilson declined, preferring to watch over Cuddy and Mia for the duration. Chase hadn't offered the same courtesy to Cuddy, because she was House's loved one, whether House would admit it or not. He didn't know that Cuddy would have politely refused anyway, knowing she needed to be with Mia during the surgery.

"Want some coffee?" he asked.

"No thanks."

"I don't really want any, either." Wilson yawned, stretched and looked at Mia as she slept with her head on Cuddy's shoulder. "Why don't you take her back to the hotel? I'll call you if there's any news."

"I can't leave."

Wilson nodded. "I didn't think so."

Cuddy smiled as she recalled her conversation with House. "He's fun when he's loopy, isn't he?"

"He was so loopy that he told me he loved me."

Cuddy turned sharply to look at Wilson. "He what?"

"No, he didn't mean me. He was thinking about Mia, but he neglected to mention that before he blurted out 'I love you'. He was completely out of it."

Leaning her head back on the chair, Cuddy couldn't help but giggle. "He told me not to let the nurses take his underwear."

"He wore his lucky blue boxers, didn't he?"

Cuddy looked surprised. "You know about those?"

"Well, apparently you do, too."

"He's worn them for the last two surgeries he's had; he thinks they're good luck."

"That's not why he thinks they're good luck."

"Why are they good luck, then?" Wilson asked.

"He was wearing them the day you decided to come back to Princeton Plainsboro."

Wilson's mouth formed a slight 'o' shape, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "He's had that pair of underwear since then?"

Cuddy nodded. "He's only worn them five times total."

"When we reconciled our friendship, his two surgeries, they're here in the bag today and what's the last one?"

"The day Mia had her open heart surgery."

Wilson shook his head. "This is prime ransom material."

"You wouldn't," Cuddy warned.

"No, I wouldn't, but he doesn't know that."

_______

An hour later, a nurse approached the trio and quietly motioned for Wilson to join her.

"Is there a problem?" Cuddy asked.

"Dr. Chase would like Dr. Wilson to scrub in. Mr. House's radical nephrectomy-"

"A radical nephrectomy? It was supposed to be laparoscopic."

"Mr. House's lung collapsed shortly after surgery began and-"

Cuddy cut off the nurse again, "And a radical nephrectomy takes less time under anesthesia which means less risk."

"Yes. Dr. Chase asks that Dr. Wilson scrub in to consult on the severity of the cancer. He believes he may also have to remove the adjacent adrenal gland."

Wilson gave Cuddy a quick hug. "I'll be back. I need to be there."

Cuddy squeezed Wilson's hand. "Take care of him, Wilson."

She watched as Wilson disappeared down the hall with the nurse, grateful Mia had slept through the conversation.

_______

"Mia, he's going to have a breathing tube in his mouth and there will be a few tubes and wires, too."

"I know."

"Are you sure you want to go in there?"

Mia looked up at her mom and nodded solemnly. "I was with him by myself for hours before you got here last time."

"I know, but the ICU is different; it's serious."

"I want to go in there, Mom."

"Okay, alright," Cuddy said, finally conceding.

Wilson stepped out of House's room, looking tired. The surgery lasted two hours longer than anticipated and the long day had taken its toll on Wilson. Mia thought he looked like he was on the verge of tears. She was right.

"I'm going in. When I come out, you can visit him, okay?"

"Okay, Mom."

Cuddy walked into House's room and paused just passed the curtain to take in his lanky frame in the hospital bed. He had two chest tubes as a result of his collapsed lung, a catheter, breathing tube and IVs attached to his thin arm. For the first time since learning his diagnosis, Cuddy wondered if he'd even make it home from the nephrectomy. She stood next to his bed and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "We're all here, House. Mia's waiting to see you. Do me a favor and don't do anything to scare her, okay?" she asked. Cuddy meant for the question to sound sarcastic, but unable to muster the effort to make it playful, her words fell flat.

She needlessly checked his IV and chest tubes, ran her fingers along his and then took several deep breaths, trying to ward off a panic attack. His very life so fragile; she couldn't imagine walking the halls of PPTH without his snark lurking on the fourth floor. Willing herself to keep from experiencing a full-on panic attack and specifically from fainting, as she still occasionally was prone to do, Cuddy shook her head and made her way back to the hallway.

________

"Hi Uncle…I mean, Dad," Mia held House's hand, too afraid to get close enough to place a kiss on his cheek or forehead. "Uncle Wilson's really worried. You need to wake up and just give him a hug." She smiled at that thought.

"I know you're not a hugger, but I think he really needs one." Her smile faded as Mia remembered seeing Wilson shortly after the surgery as he stood across the waiting room, near a window on the ICU floor. He had his back to her, but she knew he was crying and not just silent tears. Wilson was gasping with choking sobs as he hid his face from both Cuddy and Mia. Cuddy tried to engage Mia in a meaningless conversation, but Mia knew that Wilson and House were as good as brothers.

"Mom's okay," she said, sitting in the adjacent chair. Not knowing what to say or do, Mia talked to him as she normally would have. "I'm afraid she might have one of her panic attacks. Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't had one already."

Imagining what House would ask, Mia answered him, "No flip-flops today." Debating on whether or not to say anything, she strummed up enough courage to tell him something she wished she could tell him when he was awake. She whispered, "I know you're my real dad. Just thought I should tell you that I know."

______

"You should go back to the hotel," Cuddy said, placing a hand on Wilson's back.

"No. You should go; get some sleep."

"You have to drive back tomorrow, I don't."

Mia looked over at the pair as she tapped her fork on the edge of her plate as they sat in the cafeteria. No one had eaten much; they were simply going through the motions, ordering dinner simply because it was dinner time, certainly not because anyone was hungry. "I want to stay with you, Mom."

"No, Mia. You have school. You can visit when Uncle Wilson checks in on House. He'll be back tomorrow afternoon. You're going to miss enough school with your own surgery; you can't afford to miss any more than that."

"But Mom," Mia whined.

"No buts, Mia."

"Come on Mia, we can get a sundae on our way back to the hotel."

Mia frowned, plunked her fork down in anger and shook her head. "I don't want ice cream."

"Mia," Cuddy warned, "don't cop an attitude."

"Why can't I stay?"

"For one thing, only one person is allowed in his room at a time. Second, he's unconscious, there's nothing you can do right now. And third, you have a heart condition and you need a good night's sleep."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I heard you throwing up in the bathroom."

Wilson sharply turned to Cuddy. "You okay?"

She tried to brush them both off. "Fine, must have been lunch."

"Mom, you had four saltine crackers and half a diet seven-up."

"Cuddy, take Mia back to the hotel and go to bed. I'm staying here and I won't take no for an answer."

"Wilson, I'm f-"

"I'm not leaving. Just go."

Looking bewildered, Cuddy was too tired to argue. Nodding, she waved at Wilson, wrapped her arm around Mia and the pair walked away.

_______

"Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you. What about you?" Cuddy asked the next morning.

He shrugged, raised his eyebrows a bit and smiled weakly. "I've been better."

"How is he?"

"He should come off the vent this morning and if he does well, they might transfer him out of the ICU this afternoon. He opened his eyes briefly around six this morning."

"Can I go in, Mom?"

"Sure."

_______

Mia spent nearly an hour with House. With permission, she placed headphones in his ears and played some of his favorite music. She didn't talk to him, or even look at him much, instead choosing to simply read by his bedside. Mia tried to work on her homework but couldn't focus on it and just when she was about to whip out his video game, House began to struggle. He shook his head, his eyes fluttered and he made gagging noises which more than frightened Mia.

She ran to the doorway and found her mom and Wilson sitting in the chairs on the wall opposite House's room. "Mom! Something's wrong!"

Both Cuddy and Wilson rushed into the room, and both relaxed almost instantly as soon as they saw House.

"I got it," Wilson said.

"What's going on?" Mia asked as she nervously looked between her mom and House.

"It's okay, he's fighting the ventilator. It's a good thing; it means he's ready to come off the vent."

Mia closed her eyes in relief before resuming her bedside seat. Wilson removed the vent as Chase walked into the room. Cuddy asked Mia to wait outside. Sending her mom a disappointed look, Mia left quietly without arguing.

"Hey," Chase said, placing a hand on House's shoulder. "I didn't screw up."

House motioned for the ice chips and Wilson helped to spoon a few into his mouth. House struggled to keep his eyes open and swallowed repeatedly, trying to rid his mouth of the cotton ball feel. Holding out his hand nearest Wilson, House opened and closed his hand several times and without needing to ask, Wilson placed the PCA into his hand and House gratefully pressed it, instantly feeling the pain fade. In a raspy whisper, he croaked, "You cut me port to starboard."

"Your right lung collapsed."

"How bad?"

Wilson stepped into House's line of vision and answered him without breaking eye contact. "Five-inch mass. Surrounding lymph nodes were clean, liver's good. Left kidney's in good shape. It was contained to the right kidney, but you still need treatment for the spot on your spine." Wilson added the last bit hoping to ward off any attempts of House trying to get out of further treatment.

House grimaced just a bit before his eyelids fluttered. Wilson didn't notice Cuddy's absence and moments later, both she and Mia were standing at House's bedside. Cuddy smiled at House and placed her hand on his left shin, rubbing just a bit to let him know she was there. Mia smiled at him, he met her gaze and unable to keep his eyes open, he allowed himself to fall into the morphine-induced slumber.

Mia made her way to Wilson's side and while Cuddy whispered something to House, she asked, "Uncle Wilson? Why are those things on his legs? Is something wrong with his legs?"

"No," he said reassuringly, "They tighten around his legs once in a while to help with blood flow to prevent clots. Once he's up and around, he won't need them anymore."

Relieved, Mia watched as Cuddy hugged Chase, thanked him and then followed Wilson and Chase into the hall, leaving Mia to once again sit with House at his bedside. Mia knew they left to speak about House's case and she took the opportunity to spend a few more moments with him, knowing she and Wilson would soon leave to head back to Princeton.

After Chase left, Wilson and Cuddy further discussed House's prognosis, followed by Mia's school schedule. Shelby would drive her to and from school while Cuddy stayed in New York; his recovery would be longer now than if he'd had a laparoscopic procedure, and he'd likely be in the hospital a little longer than was expected.

When Mia emerged, Wilson went in and sat with House until lunch. The trio then shared a quiet meal at a nearby restaurant and when they were finished, Wilson and Mia said goodbye and headed home, but only after umpteen dozen attempts by Mia to convince her mother that she should stay. She finally agreed to go leave when Wilson promised to bring her by for a visit daily. The visit was more for Wilson than Mia, but she didn't need to know that. He wanted, or rather needed for sanity's sake, to check in with House. He needed to see that his friend was on the mend, that he was alive.

Cuddy took up residence in House's room once Wilson and Mia were gone, tucking her shoes beside her chair and resting her hand on his. Unsure if it was a professional courtesy or if it was standard procedure, she was grateful for the cot on the opposite side of the room. She had no intention of returning to the hotel any time soon. He drifted in and out throughout the day, awake only long enough before his eyelids grew heavy with each dose of pain relief. When he'd first opened his eyes, he looked directly at Cuddy, sent her a half-smile and fell back asleep. In turn, Cuddy embraced that smile and held onto it as if it were her lifeline.

_______

Shelby took Mia and Chris to school the next morning. Once he was certain they were gone, Wilson headed towards work, though he had a stop to make first. He pulled up in front of House's apartment, let himself in and looked around. It felt weird to be there when House wasn't. It was awful, actually, knowing that while Wilson was snooping in House's place, House was in the ICU in another state.

Before he kneeled in front of the piano bench, he pressed a few random piano keys. Taking out the key from his inside jacket pocket, Wilson unlocked the bench. Inside, he found the packet of Mia's adoption paperwork, House's passport, and a large manilla envelope marked "Wilson" in a familiar scrawl.

Wilson pulled back the double prongs on the back and slid his finger under the seal. Inside the envelope, he found a smaller manilla envelope with a note attached to the front. "Wilson, if you're reading this, I've either died or you've opened this before I've died, in which case I will know you've opened this when you were specifically told not to unless I was dead. So, either put this back into the piano bench and lock it, or if I'm dead, open it."

Wilson rocked back onto his heels and chuckled while shaking his head. His eyes now wet, though not from laughter, he suddenly stopped chuckling and replaced the envelope back into the bench and locked it securely.

He had no desire to find out what was in that envelope any time soon.


	17. Chapter 17

Cuddy is NOT pregnant. Not sure where this is coming from, but she would be in her mid 50's in this fic. In 'Mine', Cuddy had a history of fainting spells and is, understandably, very stressed...I was just referencing that here.

Ch. 17

Cuddy's eyes opened slowly, blearily looking around the room as she tried to orient herself. Somewhat sore from having slept on the cot for goodness knows how long, Cuddy stretched as she wondered if House needed anything. Startled, her eyes grew wide upon finding his bed empty. Frantic with worry, she sat up quickly only to feel a wave of relief wash over her upon hearing House clear his throat.

"Cuddy," he said from a chair in the far corner of the room.

"Do you need anything? How's your pain level?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. She checked his monitors and looked to make sure his PCA was within reach, giving him a once over as she did so. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"About 20 minutes."

"You didn't wake me."

"Brilliant observation."

"Why not?"

House attempted a shrug, but instantly regretted the motion with a wince. "You were sleeping."

"Well that explains it," she said, sarcastically.

"I need to get back to bed."

Feeling extremely groggy, she looked at him knowingly. "Did you have me drugged?"

"Cuddy, bed," he said, ignoring her question.

"Let me get a nurse."

"No, just help me stand. I can walk the three steps to the bed myself and you can tell the nurses if they don't remove the catheter in the next 10 minutes, I'll do it myself."

"House, you have to take it easy. It's only been a day."

"Two, actually."

Cuddy stared at him as realization dawned on her. "You spiked my coffee."

"_I_ didn't do anything."

"Wilson wouldn't dare."

"Wilson didn't do it. You hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours and you refused to go to the hotel. It didn't take much convincing."

"Chase? Chase drugged me?"

"Twice. Once in your coffee and once in your arm. I have him totally wrapped," he said, holding up his pinky.

"So Mia's been and gone and I didn't get to see her."

"She'll be back tonight. Come on, help me up. I'm supposed to walk at least three times a day according to the evil witch in the nursing uniform out there, the one with the third eye on her hairy lip," he said, motioning for her to step closer.

Cuddy helped ease him out of the chair, allowing him the chance to catch his breath and as they stood together with his arm braced around her shoulders for support, the hairy lipped nurse with possibly the largest mole Cuddy had ever seen, stepped into the room. House smirked at the slight smile Cuddy tried to hide.

"Ah, goot then," Nurse Hairy-Lip said, passing a hospital-issued, four-pronged cane to House. "Ve vill half you valking in ze corridors by five," she said.

Cuddy giggled, unable to contain herself, just imagining what House would say about this hairy, mole-ridden, German nurse once she was out of earshot. The nurse glared at her and Cuddy quickly tried to cover with a feeble, "Don't tickle me, House!"

Batting his eyelashes innocently, he said, "Oh, so sorry, _darling_."

"Iz ze pain vorse?"

With a sigh of relief, House sat on his bed. "Just keep the morphine coming."

"Ve vill."

"Goot," he said with a grunt as he stretched his legs out on the mattress, leaning back onto his pillow. The short trip from the chair to the bed left him winded and pale; Cuddy looked at him, finding she couldn't be angry with him when he was obviously in so much pain.

The nurse gave him the evil eye, though House thought it was more like the evil mole, and she exited the room.

"I forgive you," Cuddy said.

"I know. Hard to resist me when I'm so pathetic, huh?"

"I'm just glad you're around to be such an ass."

"Admit it, you're enjoying this."

She didn't answer him, instead focusing on the televised game show which House annoyingly knew all the answers to and she smiled.

_______

"It's for you," Cuddy said, handing House his cell phone.

"Who'd you think it'd be for? Ghandi?" House answered with a gruff, "Yeah?"

Cuddy tuned out the conversation House had with his fellows as she tried to keep her eyes open. House had been in hospital for five days. They'd fought, laughed, ate together and watched mind-numbing television for hours on end. The games and books he'd purchased with Wilson's credit card sat untouched in a bag beneath Cuddy's chair.

Days became marathons of wordless banter; he'd shoot her a look, only to receive one in return and they would both squabble over the television remote as if something worthwhile might be on. Chest tubes were removed, as was the drainage tube; nurses came and went, Chase visited daily before his scheduled rounds at PPTH and Wilson brought Mia each afternoon for a two-hour visit, during which time Cuddy made her escape for a quick shower.

They didn't talk much, though it was not an awkward silence; they simply were and it was enough. He never said thank-you, and she didn't expect it. His occasional half-smile or acquiescence of the remote spoke volumes. He never asked her to leave the room for embarrassing procedures or sponge baths and her eyes never wavered from her book while he was poked and prodded. Cuddy didn't meddle, only occasionally did she check his chart and not once asked if he was okay. When he genuinely was in need of an increase of morphine, she quietly made sure his pain was manageable. And at twilight, when the hospital seemed just a bit quieter and when the nurses were busy with half eaten dinner trays and the day's record keeping, House allowed Cuddy to hold his hand.

"Cuddy," he said a little more insistently.

"Hmm?"

"Where were you?"

Looking at him with concern, she shook her head. "I've been here the whole time."

House passed his cell phone back to Cuddy. "No you haven't, I called your name three times; you were off in Never Never land."

"Just thinking."

"Go back to the hotel."

"Wilson will be here soon enough."

"I can stay at Wilson's."

She furrowed her brow and looked sternly at him, as if the look would have any affect on him. "You are coming home with me the day after tomorrow. Like it or not."

"It's your funeral. I don't need a babysitter. You can go back to work."

"I've taken next week off. We'll see how you're doing after that."

_______

It took nearly 10 minutes to get House from the wheelchair into the minivan. Between his leg and the 10-inch incision on his right side, every hairline movement equaled excruciating pain, despite the morphine. Wilson thought it best to simply drive in silence once they pulled out onto the main road; he could clearly see that the simple act of moving House from his hospital room, into a wheelchair and then into the minivan was utterly exhausting.

Cuddy and Mia were already home, having driven back the night before. Wilson stayed with House during his last night in hospital so that Cuddy could prepare things at home for House's arrival.

Wilson watched as House tried to lean his head against the window and winced along with him when House found it too painful to angle his head and neck towards the glass. Without asking, he pulled the minivan over to the side of the road.

"What are you doing?"

Wilson didn't answer; instead he jumped out and rummaged through the backseat floor compartment. Spare blanket in hand, he balled it up, walked over to the rear passenger door and crawled in to the seat behind House. "Here," he said, pushing his arm through the gap between the front and rear seats to set the balled-up blanket between House's head and the front side window.

Wilson returned to the driver's seat and out of the corner of his eye, he noted a slightly more relaxed expression on House's face and Wilson took that as thanks enough. He would do everything he possibly could to make House comfortable; Wilson thought that was the least he could do for his best friend. His job had long prepared him for a situation such as this. Wilson knew how to comfort, he knew what to expect in the coming months, and he knew that it was the little things that counted most. Many patients over the years had said the best comfort they ever received was simply a loved one being there. Wilson would not falter on that simplicity.

Twenty minutes later, just when Wilson thought House had dozed off, House startled him by saying, "You looked in the bench."

Wilson grinned half-heartedly, knowing he'd been caught. He nodded in confession.

"Did you open the smaller envelope?" House asked without opening his eyes or moving his head from his makeshift pillow.

"No."

They were both silent for several minutes and Wilson began to wonder if House had dozed off this time, so he allowed his mind to wander. He wanted to do something for House that House would appreciate. Something others might not do for him, a simple thing, nothing over the top. He knew not to give gifts of material value to cancer patients; they often rejected them, feeling pitied. Then again, this was House he was thinking about. He reveled in spending money that was not his own, especially if it came out of Wilson's pocket; not knowing why, he felt like embracing and rejoicing in that thought as though it were a fond memory.

"I believe you."

Wilson gasped slightly, almost forgetting House was seated right beside him as he walked amongst his own thoughts. "Come again?"

"You didn't open the envelopes."

"I told you I didn't."

"And I'm telling you that I believe you."

Wilson nodded. "Good."

"What were you smiling about?"

Wilson looked at House briefly before refocusing on the road. "Was I?"

"You had a sappy smile all over your face a minute ago."

"Were you…watching me?"

"I'm not moving my head or any other part of my body, so it was either stare at you or keep my eyes closed. Since I'm nauseous when I close my eyes, I thought I'd look at your wrinkled face."

"I can give you an anti-emetic."

"Why were you smiling?" House asked, purposely ignoring Wilson's question.

Trying to cover quickly, Wilson said, "Remember the time I sawed your cane nearly in two?"

House furrowed his brow. "That's not what you were thinking about."

Wilson pulled the key from his pocket, stared at it momentarily and passed it to House. "Here, I'm not willing to accept this yet."

"I don't care if you're willing or not. I'm not going to draw you a map to find the key if I do keel over, so keep it."

"But-"

"Nice gesture, but I don't want Mia or Cuddy to get their hands on this unless I'm dead. Mia's adoption paperwork's in there and she still doesn't know. Just keep the key."

"I'm not letting you off the hook," Wilson said, tucking the key back into his jacket pocket.

House placed his hand towards the left side of his stomach and grimaced. "You got that anti-emetic handy?"

Any hint of his previous smile now gone, Wilson nodded and pulled off the road again to fetch the meds.

_______

Mia stood nervously away from the front door as House slowly made his way inside. She said nothing, stood perfectly still and found herself unable to look him in the eye. She'd never seen him so frail and it left her feeling more than frightened. She felt useless. Her heart jumped again, as it had daily since she'd seen McMillen; she kept it to herself, not wanting to worry anyone. McMillen said the flip-flops were normal and unless she couldn't breathe, she would be just fine, so Mia refrained from saying anything.

Held up by Wilson on one side and his cane on the other, House made his way to the couch and gently sat down on the arm rest, not wanting to sink all the way down to the seat cushions.

"We should get you to bed," Cuddy said.

Winded, House shook his head. "Not yet."

"She's right, House," Wilson said.

House looked up at Cuddy. "Morphine?"

Cuddy looked to Wilson and raised her eyebrows, questioning him silently. Wilson nodded. "I'll be right back. Are you okay sitting there?" she asked.

"Just get the pills. Wilson," House said just above a whisper. "Go help her."

"She doesn't need…." Wilson stopped, caught the meaning in House's words and quietly left House and Mia alone in the living room.

"What, no hello?"

Mia shuffled her feet while staring at the peeling nail polish on her fingers. "Hi."

"They took my kidney, not my soul."

Mia half-smiled, but her emotions got the better of her and breathing deeply, she tried not to cry in front of House.

"Come here."

"No."

"Don't make me say it again. I'm about to fall over."

Mia held her head down and walked over to his side, still trying to keep the tears at bay. Without warning, House reached out for her wrist, grabbed it and took her pulse.

"I'm fine. You're the one who just had surgery, remember?"

"And you're having surgery in two weeks, remember?"

"Dr. McMillen said the flip-flops were normal."

"Flip-flops are never normal."

"How did you know?"

"Your breathing rate increases every time you have them."

"Don't tell Mom."

House looked her in the eye, sternly.

"The rule is I have to tell you _or_ Uncle Wilson _or_ Mom. I told you; I don't have to tell Mom, she's worried enough."

"Small glitch in your theory, Mia. _You_ didn't tell me anything."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Fine, you told me. Happy now?"

"Don't take that tone with me," House said, taking a deep breath.

Mia calmed herself, almost forgetting how sick he really was and when she watched him place a hand on his stomach, her tears threatened to fall again. "I'm sorry," she said before holding her breath. She gently pulled her hand out of his grasp, afraid that she might hurt him with a simple touch.

"I won't break."

"I know."

"So are you going to hug me or not?"

"You hate hugs."

House raised his eyebrows. "Is anyone looking?" he asked, playing a long-forgotten game.

Mia smiled through her tears and looked around the room as she once did when she was younger. "No."

"Well, hurry up," he sighed, as if it was a great imposition.

Mia hesitated for a moment and then she wrapped her arms around his neck with a feather light touch, still somewhat afraid of hurting him. House tapped her back twice with his left hand, physically unable to properly give her a hug; his right arm remained in his lap, somewhat guarding his incision.

"Thank God you're okay," she whispered into his ear.

He pushed her away. "Don't go giving credit where it isn't due."

Before Mia could say anything more, Cuddy very noisily made her way into the living room with Wilson trailing behind her, her timing perfectly orchestrated. "Here, take these and I want you in bed now," she said, handing House his pain medication.

Mia laughed at the annoyed expression on House's face, and he cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "Laugh now, but just wait until it's your turn."

_______


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for reading & reviewing!

Ch. 18

House was stretched out on the couch the next morning as Cuddy cleaned the breakfast dishes; Mia was in her room. House didn't have the energy to reach for the remote, so he sat in silence, trying desperately not to move. It had been a long night spent in pain with the IV morphine sorely missed. Cuddy made sure he had his meds on time, but they only took the edge off. It was odd sensation; parts of his side and a spot on his back were still numb. He knew numbness was normal following a nephrectomy, but it was still somehow an unexpected feeling.

Wilson quietly walked in through the front door, preparing himself for House's outburst upon learning Shelby not only knew of his illness, but was currently standing on the front porch to take Mia shopping. He casually strolled into the living room, nodded at House and sat in the corner chair.

"You look like you had a rough night."

"I've had better."

"Look, I have something to tell you and I just want you to stay calm, not get upset."

"When you put it that way, I'll be totally okay with whatever you've done," House said sarcastically.

Wilson inhaled deeply, readying himself to break the news. "Shelby knows."

House closed his eyes, but surprisingly did not overreact as Wilson expected him to. In fact, he seemed almost at ease; as if he expected it.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Wilson asked when House said nothing.

"She's here." It was not a question.

"Shelby's going with Cuddy and Mia to shop for Mia's winter formal dress. Wait, you knew?"

"She's not an idiot. Let her in."

_______

Shelby sat next to House on the couch as Wilson wandered off to find Cuddy. She sat to his left, placed her hand on his knee and the two sat facing forward in silence. She had been through cancer twice before and lived day by day, fearing its return. She knew exactly what he was going through and now feared for his life, too.

"Our genes suck, huh?" she asked.

"We technically don't share the same genes."

"True. He may not have been your biological father, but cancer still sucks."

"I don't want Mia to look like a street walker."

"We'll look for turtleneck-style formal dresses," she said dryly.

"Down to her ankles."

"Should I look for one that comes with a chastity belt, too?"

"Only if it's on the sale rack."

Shelby heard Mia coming down the hallway and quickly whispered, "I've been where you are now. I'm here if you want to talk."

Before House could reject her words, or come back at her with something smart, Shelby began talking excitedly with Mia about the upcoming shopping adventure and House averted his eyes, needlessly feeling pitied.

_______

Several days later, House was stretched out on the couch, when Cuddy arrived home with Mia. Mia burst into tears and ran to her bedroom. Cuddy put her hand up and shook her head and House rolled his eyes at the teenage drama playing out before him.

Once Cuddy returned to the living room and sat in the chair by the window, she finally clued House in to the cause of the commotion. "Mia caught Kyle kissing another girl."

House managed a weak half chuckle, his side searing in pain at the slight movement. "He's a teenaged idiot with only one thing on his mind."

"I think she's more upset that she lost the bet with you. She admitted to Shelby that she didn't like Kyle anymore, but I think that catching him kissing someone else threw her for a loop."

House couldn't help but chuckle, again wincing as pain shot through his side. "She so owes me."

"Don't say anything to her. She worships the ground you walk on. Why, I haven't the slightest idea, but she does."

"Because I'm cool and you drool," House said, shooting Cuddy a sneer.

_______

Two weeks post surgery, House was up and around with greater ease and in considerably less pain. He was however, proving to be a pain for Cuddy. One day she'd arrived home to find he'd tried to empty every kitchen cupboard, intending on rearranging everything before she returned home after work. Midway through the prank, House became too tired to continue and instead of rearranged cupbards, Cuddy walked into the single largest mess she'd ever seen in any kitchen. House, of course, thought it was perfect; the prank worked even better than he'd hoped.

The day after the cupboard incident, Mia had her appointment with Dr. McMillen. After much arguing by both Cuddy and Wilson, House found himself perched on the couch once again as Mia and Cuddy went to the appointment without him. House knew he was in no shape to attend the pre-op meeting, but he was tired of being cooped up in Cuddy's house.

When the pair arrived home, House feigned disinterest, acting as though he was thoroughly invested in the home improvement program he wasn't actually watching.

Mia sat on the couch, crossed her arms and pouted. House pretended he didn't notice. Cuddy glared at them both and retreated to the kitchen to fetch House's afternoon meds. When she returned, she found them sitting in exactly the same places and it was obvious that neither had said a word.

Cuddy handed the pills to House, followed by the glass of water and waited for him to take them. "How's the pain?"

House turned his head in her direction, though his eyes remained on the television screen. "Are you referring to the metaphorical thorn in my side or the 10-inch incision?"

"I'm not a thorn in your side."

"Do I have to ask how it went?"

"You know the routine. She'll be in the ICU for a couple of days…." Cuddy paused as Mia folded her arms across her chest and ran up the stairs. Cuddy inhaled deeply before continuing, "And then she'll be monitored in the cardiac wing until she's released and then six to eight weeks recovery at home."

"I can see she took the news well."

"She hasn't spoken since we left McMillen's office." Cuddy looked at House hopefully.

"Don't look at me; I'm not about to climb those stairs. Let her be; she'll be fine."

"She's 14 years old and scared to death."

"A phrase you might consider avoiding when in her presence," he said.

"This isn't a joke, House."

He rubbed his eyes and sighed, the conversation becoming tiring. "I'll be in my prison cell," he said as he slowly stood from the couch.

Cuddy's first instinct was to help him stand, but the icy glare from House kept her from acting on that instinct. She watched as he made his way towards his room before she collapsed behind her own closed bedroom door. Drawing her knees up as she sat in the center of her bed, Cuddy did the only thing she could manage: she cried.

_______

Two days before her surgery, Mia stood in a simple, elegant, floor-length, royal blue gown next to a young boy whom House thought was too sheepish to try anything with Mia. The boy, Josh, was an outright nerd and that was just fine with House.

Once Cuddy was finished taking umpteen dozen pictures, annoying both House and Mia, the young pair were off to the dance. Cuddy watched Josh pull out of the driveway in an old station wagon with Mia seated next to him. She looked nervous. No, she looked…bored. Cuddy hoped Josh was as virginal as he seemed.

Cuddy sat next to House on the couch, gave him a quick glance and tucked her hand under his. He flinched slightly, but did not pull away. "When did she grow up?" she asked.

"While you were getting old."

"And if I'm old, what are you?"

"I'm like a fine wine; I only get better with age."

Cuddy chuckled and raised her eyebrows. "More like flat beer."

_______

"Absolutely not," Cuddy said as she set Mia's suitcase down.

"Don't make me call one of my minions."

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

"House, you can barely walk from one end of the room to the other. There's no way you're going to the hospital with us. Go back to bed before you make us late."

With his lips pursed and dead-set on going, House still managed to stand imposingly in front of Cuddy, despite already feeling winded from the argument. "Either you let me ride along with you, or I'll find some other way to get there."

Wilson quietly entered through the front door and upon seeing the two arguing, he positioned himself beside Cuddy, ready to fight the good fight.

House rolled his eyes. "Wilson, go get in the car."

"House, you can't go."

"Says you."

"And as your physi-"

"As my oncologist, you know I can't spread my cancer germs."

"That's not the point."

Cuddy interjected. "Why is this so important? You're not ready for this."

House furrowed his brow and stared between Cuddy and Wilson. He nodded slowly. "What aren't you telling me?"

Wilson sighed before smiling. He shook his head, wondering why he actually thought House wouldn't figure it out and then turned to look at Cuddy. "Tell him, otherwise he'll end up in New York."

House furrowed his brow and looked sharply at Cuddy. "Spill."

"It's nothing, House. We've just decided to have Mia's surgery at Princeton Plainsboro instead of New York General. It's not a big deal."

The room was silent except for the thump of House's cane. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Not everything's about you, House," Cuddy said with a frown. She picked up the car keys and promptly left the two men as she walked outside.

"What was that about?" House asked.

Wilson shook his head. "Ever think that maybe all of this is taking its toll on Cuddy? Driving back and forth between here and New York would have been too much; she's holding it together by a very thin thread."

"And superhero Wilson came to the rescue and talked to McMillen."

Wilson nodded slightly. "Someone had to."

The men locked eyes momentarily, the weight of Wilson's words almost tangible.

"I'm going," House finally said.

"You've got a date with the CT machine at noon and Chase will do a blood draw after that," Wilson said with a smirk.

"You planned this."

Wilson handed House his coat before heading towards the stairwell. "Mia," he shouted, "let's go." Wilson turned back to admit that he knew House wouldn't stay home, but found House had disappeared behind the kitchen door.

"Uncle Wilson?" Mia asked, as she came down off the last step. Worry was written all over her face. "Is Da…I mean Uncle House going?"

Wilson raised an eyebrow, very much aware that Mia was once again calling House 'Dad'. He reached for her suitcase. "Yes."

Mia visibly relaxed and smiled briefly. "I knew he would."

Wilson studied Mia before asking, "How did you know?"

She looked up at him and smiled, "He promised he'd be there when I woke up."

"When?"

"Remember that day when I found out I had to have surgery?"

"I do."

"That day."

House returned to the living room, Vicodin bottle in hand and said, "Let's go."

"Wait, I forgot my toiletry bag in my bathroom," Mia said, heading towards the stairs.

"I'll get it," Wilson offered, placing a hand on Mia's shoulder as he passed her on the steps.

"Go get in the car," House said to her, walking towards the front door.

Mia matched him stride for stride, but when they neared the door, she stopped as House continued on. He looked back and sighed, not wanting to deal with anymore tears. Mia had cried daily for the week leading up to the surgery, her fear intensifying with each passing day.

"What if I don't wake up?"

House sighed loudly. "Not this again, Mia. We've been through this."

"But what if?"

"Well, you won't know it, will you?"

"That's not what I was hoping you'd say."

"You know what sucks worse than major heart surgery?"

Mia shook her head.

"Not having major heart surgery, knowing you _will_ die without it."

"Will I really? What if I didn't go through with it?"

"Then your mom will lose her jerk of a boyfriend and her daughter at the same time. Think that's fair?"

Mia smirked up at him. "You just called yourself her boyfriend."

He half-smiled back and gruffly said, "Get in the car. You must be delusional; I would never call mys-"

"Don't try to get out of it, House. I heard it, too," Wilson said from behind the pair.

House frowned, pushed Mia by the shoulder and limped towards the car behind her, with Wilson bringing up the rear.

Mia turned around to look at House one last time. "You're not really going to die, are you?"

House made a show of rolling his eyes in an effort to brush off her comment. She shot him an insistent look, pleading him to answer her reassuringly.

"Not today," he mumbled.

"You look like shit," Mia said before realizing what had come out of her mouth. She looked just as shocked as Wilson did. House stifled a chuckle as he got into the car.

Wilson opened the car door for Mia, waited for her to get in next to Cuddy and then walked to the back of the car, setting the suitcase in the trunk. He sat down in the driver's seat and looked at House, who sat in the front passenger seat. He had a bead of sweat on his forehead, he was pale, thin, and obviously not feeling up to par, though he now sported the remnants of a grin after Mia's remark. Wilson was once again amazed at what House would go through for someone he loved and as he started the engine, he swallowed hard, keeping the tears at bay.

"You're riding in a wheelchair. No arguments," Wilson said, now looking straight ahead as they pulled out of the driveway.

"You don't think I'm actu-"

"Shut up, House."

House looked at him, raised his eyebrows and halfway smiled. "Fine, _Daddy Jimmy_. Since when did you become my father?"

Wilson snorted, meeting House's gaze briefly before returning his attention to the road. And in a nasally, Darth Vader-ish voice, he said, "House, I am your father."

For the second time that morning, House chuckled earnestly as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass.

_______


	19. Chapter 19

There will be 2 more updates before posts will slow down. I've run out of written material, so will be writing as I post (most of this was written this past fall) and I have to give my betas a chance to bets before I can post. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 19

Cuddy wheeled the chair next to the front passenger side of the car and Wilson stood protectively over House as he maneuvered into it. Wilson then proceeded to tuck in a blanket around House, but before he could get very far, House swatted at him sharply, inflicting a good-sized bruise on Wilson's forearm.

"Ow!"

"I'm not 90. You're tucking me in like some old geezer who has to be strapped in to keep from falling out."

"Your team's going to see you, you know. The first thing they're going to question is why you're in a wheelchair and secondly, how you're doing. I just thought the blanket would be a good cover-up, literally."

House shook his head. "It's easy enough to lie to them; just tell them I'm supposed to keep off my feet as part of the treatment and that Nazi Cuddy here is enforcing the rules."

Mia stood behind House, giggling. Wilson looked at her in confusion, though he was glad to see that she was in good spirits moments from going in for a potentially life-threatening operation.

"What are you laughing at?" House barked.

Mia pushed the wheelchair and leaned in next to his ear. "You, _Grandpa_."

House lowered his hands to the wheels, grabbed hold and caused Mia to stumble forward into him with the abrupt stop. Wilson rushed forward to check on House as Cuddy placed her hand on Mia's shoulder.

"House? What's going on?" Wilson asked as he stood to the side of the wheelchair, hands on his hips, in superhero mode.

"Why don't you ask my _granddaughter_?" House snarled.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and though House couldn't hear her words, he knew she was lecturing Mia, which further infuriated him as he imagined Cuddy telling her that House was too weak for such teasing. He picked up the blanket and hurled it over his head, effectively stopping their conversation as the two women struggled with the blanket. Cuddy shot one last glance at Mia, silently encouraging her to apologize. Defeated, Mia once again stood behind House, pushing the chair.

"I'm sorry."

House frowned as he snorted through his nose.

Mia leaned in again. "I said I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me before all of this."

"Wilson, Boobs...Cuddy," House called out, "go inside."

Cuddy walked ahead, but not before smacking House on his arm in passing. Wilson questioned House wordlessly with raised eyebrows and in turn, House nodded.

"I'll let Chase know you're here," Wilson said, before quickening his stride to catch up to Cuddy

House allowed Mia to push him in silence for a short while. Once they reached the sidewalk, Mia stopped, wrapped her arms around House from behind and leaned in. "You'll be there when I wake up, right?" Her nerves had finally taken hold; the fear in her voice was sharp and new. "Right?" she asked again.

"Since your mom has the car keys and I'm not in the mood for a jog, yeah, guess I'll be there when you wake up."

Mia refused to let go, still hanging around House's neck as she stood behind the wheelchair.

"You _will_ have to let go sometime before the start of surgery," he said, tensing somewhat.

"I'm scared," she said.

"I know."

"You're scared, too."

House pursed his lips, pausing just a little longer than he had planned. "Only about what Kutner's done to my whiteboard."

Mia straightened up and smiled briefly. "Liar."

"I'm not worried."

"You lie worse than mom. You wouldn't be here if you weren't worried."

"And you wouldn't be here if you didn't need heart surgery. Inside, now," House said, growing impatient.

"You know, you really are starting to act old; they probably think we're going to geriatrics," Mia said, knowing that would get a rise out of him.

"Watch it, or I'll conveniently be in the cafeteria when you wake up."

"You wouldn't," she said, with a catch in her breath.

"Wouldn't I?"

Mia leaned down to whisper in his ear. "No, you wouldn't. I know you, _Dad_. You're a big sap who hides behind obnoxiousness."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not."

Mia whispered one last time as they approached her mom and Wilson, "Face it, you love me and the only reason you're here instead of at in bed at home, where you should be, is because you're a sap. A big sappy, sap, sap, sap."

"And before I get dropped off at geriatrics, we'll drop you off at the nursery."

_______

"What the hell is taking so long?" House grumbled.

"House, why don't you go lie down in my office?"

"Cuddy, don't bother, he won't go," Wilson said. "I've tried. He's too damned stubborn."

"Remind me again why we're not watching from the observation lounge? What's the difference if I sit in there or if I sit here?"

Cuddy shook her head, trying to keep from losing her composure. The preceding days and particularly the morning had been stressful and Cuddy was now doing everything within her power to keep it together. With a sigh, she said, "Fine, stay here." Cuddy looked at House, his feet up on the end table that Wilson had pushed in front of House's chair, a large pillow behind his back, a magazine in his lap and the television tuned to a cartoon channel after he had commandeered the remote from the surgery nursing station and she shrugged. "There aren't enough toys to keep you entertained in the observation lounge and I really don't want to watch the surgery."

House nodded in victory.

_______

"Mia will be in recovery for at least an hour, go see Chase," Wilson said, urging House for the most part to get him out of Cuddy's hair for a while.

Wilson turned to her, "Are you okay if I take the two-year old here to see Chase?"

Cuddy looked beat. The hours of worry were evident in her frown lines and crows feet. As much as she needed both House and Wilson by her side that morning, Cuddy was grateful for the temporary reprieve. She nodded, gave a cursory smile and said, "I'll be fine."

House looked at Wilson and raised his eyebrows. "You driving?"

"Well, I could always sit in the chair while the man with the mile-wide gash on his side pushed me," Wilson said, wheeling House towards the elevator.

"Why don't you just say it a little louder, Wilson? Maybe my team will hear you."

"I could get on the intercom, if you'd like."

"Great, and then you can announce I have cancer, too," House said as he craned his head back, to look at Wilson upside down as they stepped out of the elevator.

"House?" a female's voice tentatively asked as they rounded the corner.

House sighed, closed his eyes upon seeing Cameron and shook his head. "Perfect."

Cameron looked from House to Wilson, questioningly. "Is that true? Do you have…do you have cancer?" Cameron took one look at how thin House was, the layers of clothing he was wrapped in, and his pale complexion and said, "Oh my God."

"It's not what you think, Cameron," Wilson said, scrambling to come up with an excuse. "He was just…being House. He was kidding."

"That's nothing to kid about."

"Huh, so your British boy toy actually kept his mouth shut?"

Cameron looked at House in confusion. "What do you mean? Chase knew about this?"

"House," Wilson interjected.

"Drop the act, Wilson. She's not stupid."

"Wait, so it's true?" Cameron took a step closer, worry now evident in her eyes. "You have cancer?" Cameron looked sharply at Wilson. "This isn't some sick joke, is it?"

Wilson shook his head, solemnly.

"Cancer?" Cameron said, sympathetically.

"Oh do not start with the poor old, cancer-riddled-cripple thing," House said, looking sternly up at her.

"What does Chase have to do with this?"

As the trio approached Chase's office, Chase greeted them at his door.

"You lied to me?" Cameron asked.

Chase looked between Cameron and House, his mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say, which made House that much more fascinated by the potential quarrel between the married couple.

"Wondering what else he might be hiding?" House asked her.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Chase said imploringly.

Cameron shook her head in defeat, knowing full well that both Wilson and Chase were bound by rules. "House, I'm so-"

"Don't say it," House interrupted, "and not one word about this to anyone. Got it?"

"I wouldn't-" Cameron started.

"But you did. Seems you couldn't keep your mouth shut a few years back. Remember?"

"And Wilson was the one who told me. I wasn't your doctor."

"Hey, technically I wasn't his doctor, either," Wilson said.

"One word Cameron, and I'll make your life a living hell while you work for me."

Cameron shook her head. "I won't say a word."

______

Chase drew blood while Wilson reviewed House's file.

"The imagining room's backlogged," Wilson mumbled, not taking his eyes off of the chart. "They said they'd let us know when they have an opening."

As Chase helped House to sit up after examining his incision, Cuddy slipped into the exam room, shoulders slumped and tears beginning to fall. Wilson immediately stood in concern.

"Is Mia okay?"

Cuddy said nothing as she lifted her hand towards her mouth, her shoulders now shaking. She locked eyes with House while everyone in the room waited for her to regain her composure. She hadn't meant to lose it in front of anyone, certainly not in front of three of her employees. She had managed to keep it together as she sat alone in the waiting room. She was okay when they announced they were moving Mia from recovery into the ICU, as she fully expected them to do. She was okay in the elevator on her way to find House in order to tell him to get his ass to Mia's room before she realized he wasn't there. She didn't feel the full impact of the day's stress until she watched as House was assisted into a seated position by Chase. She felt out of control; she was losing the man she loved and her daughter had just undergone serious heart surgery. It was more than any one person should have to endure. She steadied herself, thinking of what she _did_ have, and at that moment, she still had her daughter and she still had House. She hadn't lost either of them and for that, she was grateful.

Once Cuddy managed to find her voice, she said, "They're moving her to the ICU right now. You promised you'd be there." Cuddy's gaze never wavered from House's.

House nodded and turned to Chase. "We done here?"

"I'm through with you," Chase said with a smile. "Here," he said, passing a bear to Cuddy, "just a little something from Cameron and me."

"Thank you," she said.

"A teddy bear?" House mocked. "Oh how sweet."

Ignoring House, Chase continued to look at Cuddy. "I'll do the, uh, shave-a-thon."

House cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. "Shave-a-thon?"

"Uh, yeah. PPTH is hosting a children's cancer research drive. Folks agree to shave their heads and the money they collect is donated towards cancer research. Dr. Cuddy hasn't told you?"

"Wait, so Mr. Goldilocks is going to shave his head? All of it?"

Chase frowned. "I'm not above shaving my hair if it's for a good cause."

House turned towards Cuddy. "And why hide this from me?"

She shrugged. "It honestly slipped my mind. You know, my daughter's life-threatening surgery had me a little preoccupied, not to mention the cranky house guest who gets on my every last nerve and who happens to have cancer has been on my mind a lot lately, too."

"Chase and I are leaving now," Wilson said as the two men exited the room, neither wanting to get in the middle of a potentially epic conversation between Cuddy and House.

Now alone with him, Cuddy approached House. "So? When does treatment start?"

"My overly obsessive oncologist insists I have a scan first." He waited for Cuddy to to leave and when she stood insistently in front of him, he said, "A week or two."

"Shouldn't you wait until you've fully recovered from the nephrectomy?"

House slowly stood from the exam table and limped towards the wheelchair by leaning on the counter. "Wilson seems to think the cancer's spreading."

"You've been in pain."

"I'm always in pain."

"But not your back."

"What room is Smiagle in?"

"Don't deflect. How long has it been bothering you?"

"Do we have to do this now?"

Cuddy sighed, pushed the wheelchair closer to House and before she allowed him to sit, she reached her hands up to cup his face and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"If it weren't for her, I'd be dead by now," he said.

Cuddy braced the wheelchair as House sat down. "Wilson, door," Cuddy called out and right on cue, Wilson held the door open as she pushed House out into the hall.

"Don't remind me," she whispered into House's ear.

_______

Cuddy and House both entered Mia's ICU room together. Despite all of her years as a doctor, Cuddy couldn't help but look at all the tubes and monitors attached to Mia and feel like any other parent whose child had a serious medical condition. It was nothing short of frightening.

Mia's eyes remained closed, a breathing tube was still in place and various tubes protruded from her chest for drainage. Cuddy did a quick check of her IV as House picked up her chart to review it. There was little they could do; Mia would be in the ICU for at least two days. So they did what any parent would do: they pulled up a chair and waited.


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks for reading & for reviewing! The next few chapters after this one really get intense (at least they were to write...cried more than once).

Ch. 20

Hours later, Mia woke to the sound of House snoring. Her eyes opened slowly and while trying to orient herself, she found she was alone in her room with House. Cuddy was absent, though she thought she could hear her speaking with someone in the hall. Mia raised her hand, but found she couldn't move it much due to the IV and pulse ox monitor. Upon realizing the breathing tube was still in place, she began to panic. Closing her eyes in fear, Mia began to shake.

House woke with a start and moved to the head of the bed, placing one hand below her chin to steady her and used the other to unlatch the breathing tube. Mia opened her eyes with his touch and looked up at him in relief, knowing she would be okay.

Once the tube had been removed and she had calmed down, Mia swallowed several times and croaked, "Mom?"

"Bathroom."

"You're here."

"I am."

"I'm tired."

House nodded as he noted her vitals. Once finished, he looked at Mia again and found she had fallen asleep. Exhausted himself, he sat down, closed his eyes and was soon snoring.

_______

"You're not my mother."

"Mia's out of the ICU, she's doing just fine. You need a good night's sleep before starting treatment. No way are you spending the night here."

"I'll decide where I spend the night."

"Not if you want to see your piano as you left it."

"You wouldn't dare touch my piano."

Wilson smiled furtively. "Try me."

After decades of knowing one another, House still had trouble telling when Wilson was lying to him. And they both knew it.

Glaring at Wilson, House picked up his coat. "Fine."

"Yes, Miss. Daisy," Wilson said triumphantly as he wheeled House into the elevator. "Finish drinking that, you need it for the contrast."

"But Daddy, it tastes like moldy socks."

"House, drink it. And how would you know what moldy socks taste like, anyway?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." House twiddled with the glass, becoming quiet and somewhat introspective. It did not escape Wilson.

"What's wrong?"

House took a deep breath. "Scan my lungs, too."

Wilson stopped and turned to face House, unable to hide his worry. "You're having trouble breathing?"

House shrugged. "Just doesn't feel right."

Wilson nodded.

_______

"House!" Kutner said with a broad grin as Wilson wheeled House into the diagnostic confrence room. As realization dawned on him, Kutner's grin turned into a look of concern. "Hey, a wheelchair? Is that treatment working, or is your leg…you know, worse? And how's Mia doing?"

House gave Kutner the evil eye, ignoring his first question as he pointed a finger, silently directing Wilson towards his desk. "Mia's fine."

Once House was behind his closed office door, Wilson returned in an effort to further prolong House's carefully crafted lie. He waited for Kutner and the others to take a seat before addressing them.

"The treatment is going well. House might even be back a week early, but we've decided he'll take a week off now and again so that he can return to Boston for long-term treatment."

"So, it's going well, then?" Foreman asked.

"It is," Wilson lied.

"He looks thin," Kutner said.

Wilson relied on his lying abilities to skirt the question. "Well, the change in meds has caused a decrease in appetite. We expected it." At least it wasn't a complete lie. Wilson noted Cameron's complete silence; it appeared she would keep her promise.

Cuddy came to Wilson's rescue as she stepped in. "Excuse me," she said with a tired smiled. "Mia's asking for her Uncle Jimmy."

"I'll go now if you can bring House downstairs in say an hour?"

Cuddy nodded, squeezing Wilson's shoulder as he passed her on his way out. House's team spoke with Cuddy for the next several minutes on Mia's progress and when House slowly wheeled himself into the room, all eyes turned to him.

"Sign me up," House said.

Cuddy looked at him questioningly. "Excuse me?"

"Shave-a-thon."

Cuddy's eyebrows shot upwards. In complete disbelief, she asked, "_You_ want to shave your head? You're going to raise money for cancer kids? Knock me over with a feather."

"Anyone got a feather?" House asked tartly.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Foreman chimed in.

"Hey, I think that's great, House. I'm in," Kutner said, his grin having returned. "There's a prize for the department with the highest number of shavees."

House rolled his eyes. "And I suppose you're aiming for the top prize for the most money raised?"

Looking sheepish, Kutner nodded as he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "You say that like it's a bad thing. The whole point is to raise research money for children's cancer research. I've got $4,675 in donations so far."

"Dr. Kutner, that's wonderful!" Cuddy said.

House shook his head, motioned for Cuddy to wheel him out of the room and he waved a succinct goodbye as the pair headed towards the elevators.

As they waited for the elevator car, Cuddy stepped in front of the wheelchair to look at House directly. "So, you're really going to shave your head?"

"Best disguise for a cancer patient, don't you think?" House asked with a smirk.

Cuddy smiled knowingly. "And why do you think we're having a shave-a-thon to begin with?"

House opened his mouth in response, narrowed his eyes at her momentarily and then leaned back into the wheelchair without saying anything, impressed.

_______

Kutner looked at Cameron and then to Foreman, while Falstaff, Lynne and Brindle looked to the attendings for clues to what they thought was actually going on.

"So, do you buy it?" Kutner asked.

Without missing a beat, Cameron nodded. "What's not to buy? He's in treatment."

Foreman tilted his head from side to side, unsure of what to make of the situation. "I've never seen him allow anyone to push him in a wheelchair; he always insists he do it himself."

"Maybe the meds cause muscle weakness?" Cameron suggested, now trying to divert the team's focus.

"I don't know," Kutner said. "What meds could he be on?"

"He was thin," Falstaff said as she poured herself another coffee.

Foreman stared at the whiteboard, picked up the marker and wrote: "Weight loss, fatigue, pale, one month off, frequent urination, willingness to shave his head."

Kutner read the words before sighing in realization. "House has cancer."

"Why would you think...." Foreman stopped abruptly and read the last item on the list before nodding. "He wants to shave his head before he loses his hair."

Cameron sat at the table, relieved she needn't lie to them any longer. With the start of a headache coming on, she placed her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.

Chase appeared at the doorway to the conference room and noted the words on the whiteboard and the somber expressions on everyone in the room and he silently took a seat next to his wife.

"Have you seen Wilson?" Chase asked. Chase placed his hand on Cameron's arm, giving a gentle squeeze.

Foreman shook his head. "You knew."

Chase looked up at his long time friend and nodded. "House needs a CT in about twenty mintues. Wilson was-"

Kutner stood suddenly. With a slight sheen to his eyes and a decisive frown, he said, "Cuddy's with House in her office."

Chase nodded, gave Cameron one last pat on her hand and headed towards the clinic.

_______

"Where's Wilson?"

"He's visiting with Mia."

"Since when does a kid after open heart surgery, trump me?"

Chase stopped the wheelchair in front of the imaging room, rolled his eyes and stepped in front of House to look him in the eye. "Always."

"Oh sure, take her side."

Chase punched the automatic door opener and waited for the door to swing open before pushing House into the imaging room. A slow scowl formed on House's face, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth, as he watched his team pile out of the control room. He glared at Cameron.

She shook her head vigorously. "I didn't say a word."

Both Foreman and Kutner frowned with furrowed brows, glancing back and forth between House and Cameron. Foreman closed his eyes briefly before heading to the control room, muttering, "I don't know why I bother caring. Nothing changes."

Kutner crossed his arms. "So, did the whole hospital know about this or just everyone but us?"

Cameron put her hands up defensively. "I only found out this morning. I had no idea until I overheard House and Wilson in the hall."

"Right," Kutner said.

"Shut up Kutner," House said. "Foreman, get back in here."

"Why? You couldn't be bothered to tell us you were sick."

House ran a hand down his face as the weight of the morning rested firmly on his shoulders. "I didn't _tell_ anyone."

"You told Chase," Foreman spat.

"Wilson made me do it."

Chase turned towards Foreman, hoping to ease the situation. "He needed a surgeon. Doctor-patient confidentiality-"

"Is bogus when you don't keep your mouth shut," House said as he pushed the wheelchair out of Chase's grasp. "Yes. I have cancer. Stage four kidney cancer that's metastasized to my spine. And I would be happily on my deathbed if Mia's heart hadn't acted up. Happy now?"

Foreman's shoulders dropped as his entire demeanor abandoned defensiveness and gave in to compassion. "No, House. Despite what you might think, none of us are happy to hear that you have cancer."

"Who figured it out?"

Chase pulled the wheelchair backwards towards the CT machine. "Kutner."

House batted at Chase. "I'm not an invalid, get off."

"Fine, go on, get up on the table yourself then. We'll be in the control room."

House sent Chase one final glare before turning the wheelchair around. He looked up at the table and tried to find the energy to get to his feet, wishing he had taken a Vicodin. He shook his head and half chuckled through his nose, feeling pathetic and useless.

Chase and the rest of the team were filing into the control room when they heard him call out.

"Chase."

Chase didn't turn around, but simply waved his hand and nodded, figuring House was impatient.

"Chase!" House called out again.

He turned around and looked at House, finding him with his head bowed. Chase walked towards him.

"Yeah?"

"Did you talk to Wilson?"

"Not since this morning."

"Check my lungs, too."

Somberly, Chase nodded before he began to walk away.

House leaned back in the wheelchair, glanced briefly at Chase and then at the table and feeling defenseless, he quietly said, "Could use a hand here."

Chase turned back and silently positioned House's arm over his shoulder and hoisted House onto the table. "You know," Chase began, "no one will think you've lost any of your acerbic personality if you ask for help."

"Did you have to drag the toddlers along?" House asked as he motioned towards the younger team members.

Chase helped House to lean back on the table. "They care, too, you know."

"They're idiots."

"Yeah, we all are when it comes to you."

_______

Wilson stood in front of the light board with a hand covering his mouth, his brow furrowed in concern. Unable to believe what he was seeing in front of him, Wilson plucked the scans from the light source and carefully placed them into the large envelope. Swiping at the tears which dotted the corners of his eyes, he headed towards Dr. Connely's office.

_______

Cuddy opened the door to her office, and placed an index finger up to her lips to shush Wilson as he entered. House was asleep on the couch. The pair sat at her desk and proceeded in whispered tones.

"So?" she asked.

Wilson shook his head. "He's got two masses on his lungs and the one on his spine has spread."

Closing her eyes, Cuddy shook her head. "So, what's the next step?"

"I spoke with Connely. We've agreed that it's progressing too fast for radiation. I'd like to start him on interleukin2 as soon as he's fully recovered from the nephrectomy."

"That's toxic. Can his body handle it?"

"I hope so. He doesn't have much choice; it's the only drug which has any kind of success in cases like his."

"Percentages?" Cuddy asked.

"20 percent cure rate."

"That's better than I thought. What's the...the death rate?"

"Four percent," Wilson said quietly.

"Never tell me the odds," House spoke up from the far corner.

"You do realize you're quoting Star Wars, right?" Wilson asked.

"Why aren't you with Mia?" House asked.

"I'm taking you home. Cuddy's staying the night with Mia."

House nodded, too tired to argue. "Let's go."

_______


	21. Chapter 21

This is the last chapter for a while. I will continue, I just have to write it first and have my betas look over it. Thanks to everyone who is reading & reviewing! I appreciate it :)

** True, I've said there will be one final story to this series, and there will be. However, it will be considerably shorter and it will be a sort of epilogue.

Ch. 21

"But, Mom!"

"No buts about it, Mia. I said no."

"You can't keep me locked up in this house forever. I feel perfectly fine now."

Cuddy peered out the front window, hoping Wilson would pull up soon. Several weeks had passed since Mia's surgery and the morning light brought with it the first day of interleukin2 treatment. As expected, House was in a funk, snapping at everyone even more than usual and currently refusing to emerge from his bedroom.

"Mia, you've been home exactly six days. One, you can't possibly feel fine, especially considering the number of pain pills you need just to feel okay. Two, House has told you several times that he doesn't want any of us there. This treatment is going to make him very, very sick. And thr-"

"But mom, is he just going to sit in the hospital alone for a week? I can sit there just as well as I can sit here. And like he always says, cancer's not contagious."

Cuddy squared her shoulders, placed her hands on Mia's arms and looked directly into her daughter's eyes. "He doesn't want you to see how sick he's going to be."

"I've seen him throw up before. I've seen him seize. How bad can it get?"

Cuddy sighed. "Bad."

Mia's brow furrowed. She knew House would lose his hair. She knew he'd vomit more than anyone she'd ever met, but there was something her mom wasn't telling her. "How bad? And don't lie to me. I can always tell."

From behind Mia, she heard his voice, gruff as usual, though with an added edginess to it. "Dead bad."

"Not funny," Mia said as Cuddy shot House a frown.

"Wasn't meant to be," he said, grabbing his coat. "Wilson called, he's just around the corner," he said to Cuddy.

"Why can't I sit with you?" Mia asked while trying to give him a quick squeeze on his arm. He pulled away, denying her any kind of physical contact. Cuddy closed her eyes briefly as she watched Mia shrink away, dejected.

Growing agitated with her persistence, House failed to keep his temper in check. "Face the facts, Mia. I have stage four cancer. Google it. I'll be dead before the Hospital fundraiser, so no worries about living up to that bet we made the night of the concert."

"Wait, you're leaving? Just like that?" Mia said as House opened the front door.

"What did you expect? A hug and kiss goodbye?"

"Okay, that's enough, House," Cuddy said, stepping between the two and handing House his bag. "Are you trying to make her upset? She just had heart surgery."

House snatched the bag from Cuddy and made his way outside, without so much as a glance at Mia.

"Fine!" Mia called out after him. "I love you anyway, you jerk! And…and…." Mia began to sob, "I hate you!"

"I'll be in as soon as the nurse gets here," Cuddy said from just outside the car window. Wilson kept the engine running as the car sat in Cuddy's driveway.

House struggled with the seatbelt, allowing his anger to impede his attempts at buckling-up. "I told you, I don't want you there."

"Tough," Cuddy said.

"House, we're going to be there, like it or not," Wilson said, shooting Cuddy a sympathetic smile.

"Great. You can hold the barf bucket while Wonder Woman lovingly places cold compresses to my forehead. I've died and gone to cancer ward hell."

"You'll be lucky if Wonder Woman doesn't strangle you with your IV," Cuddy said. "You owe Mia an apology. She's in there crying her eyes out, thanks to you. You didn't even tell her goodbye."

"I'll be sure to send her a sympathy card before I die."

Cuddy smacked House hard on the arm and without saying a word, she turned and headed back towards the house.

_______

"Why do you have to do that?" Wilson asked as he pulled onto the main street.

"Do what? I'm not the kiss-goodbye-in-case-I-never-see-you-again sort."

"No, you're the biggest-ass-whoever-lived sort."

"And what are you?" House asked quietly, now looking out of the passenger-side window.

"Lately I feel like a referee."

"This is a mistake."

"What? Treatment?"

"No, allowing you to be my physician."

Wilson pursed his lips, nodded slightly and sighed. "I can hand your case over to Connelly. He's consulted on your case since the start. Maybe my treating you wasn't the best idea."

House said nothing and the pair rode in silence the rest of the way to the hospital.

_______

House had his feet propped up on a hospital recliner, in a small room on the oncology floor. A curtain separated him from his roommate, who from the sound of it, was tossing and turning in a great deal of discomfort in his bed. House looked up at the bland walls, painted with the palest of pinks. The room was void of decorations save for a small, abstract painting perched above his bed. Between it and the chair he was sitting in, sat a table with a large salmon colored basin and a water pitcher on top. His bag was thrown haphazardly on the guest chair and his sneakers were tossed in the far corner. He refused to change into the hospital issued gown.

Wilson entered the hospital room, first disappearing behind the curtain to check on the other patient. House heard Wilson's calm, reassuring voice announcing that it was time for more Demerol. He then heard what he knew was a cry of relief from the patient. House felt a chill run down his spine, knowing he too would soon cry for pain relief. It was a disquieting thought.

Minutes later, Wilson sat opposite House, paperwork in hand. "You know the drill. Sign the third and fifth pages. The last page is a consent form to transfer your case to Connelly. Nurse Bennet will be in to set you up with a PIC line." Wilson stood to leave.

"No."

Wilson looked at House in confusion. "I thought you agreed to give treatment a chance?"

House frowned and shook his head. "I won't sign the last page. Connelly's a quack."

Wilson half grinned, knowingly. "We both know he's not a quack. If you want me to be your oncologist, fine."

House picked at his nails and nodded silently.

"Nurse Bennet will be by in about five minutes. Do you need anything? I can go over what symptoms you mi-"

House gave Wilson a disbelieving look. "There is a reason for those two letters at the end of my name. 'M.D.' doesn't stand for moronic dork."

"No, but it may as well stand for masochistic dummy." Wilson said with a smirk. "Cuddy called a few minutes ago; the nurse ran a little late so she's just getting here now."

"I told you both I don't want you here."

"And we told you we don't care what you want. You're going to need us here." Wilson replaced House's chart on the end of the bed and held the hospital gown out to House. "Put this on."

House pushed his hand away, again refusing the garment.

"Trust me. In a few hours, you're going to wish you hadn't ruined your shirt."

House snatched the gown from Wilson and like a two year old, pouted as he began to undress.

_______

Cuddy embraced Wilson, not knowing if she was hugging him out of her own need for comfort or because Wilson himself looked like he needed the hug. She pulled away to look at him. "I can sit with him until three, but then I have to go back to Mia.

"He doesn't want us in there right now."

"He knows I'm here to sit with him."

"Give him a little dignity. Let the first dose settle and then go in when his defenses are down. Right now, he's feeling fine. This is nasty stuff; once the chills and pain start, it's good to have someone nearby."

Cuddy nodded. "I'll be in my office. Call me if you need me."

_______

"Dr. House! You're worse than a child," Nurse Bennet said, as she snatched the IV bag from him. "Dr. Wilson can deal with you."

House watched the nurse turn on her heel and exit, simultaneously hearing a chuckle from behind the shared curtain. Frowning, House got up, rounded the bed and threw the curtain to the side, intent on glaring at whomever was his roommate.

"Dr. House," the man said, his demeanor instantly changing upon seeing how sick House really was.

"Dr. Pember," House said, eyeing the other man up and down. "So, what's killing you?"

"Some things never change, do they? Renal Cell Carcinoma."

"Perfect. Is this some secret club? God, Wilson thinks he's so clever, putting us in the same room."

"Dr. Wilson a better friend to you than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" House shot back.

"He shuffled every man on this floor around just so you wouldn't be stuck sharing a room with someone knocking on death's door. I was rooming with a very quiet eighty-year old."

"Well," House said, feeling winded from his brief tirade, "sorry to inconvenience you. I'll try to die quietly."

"Wilson also knew I'd keep my mouth shut. I expect you to do the same for me. My staff doesn't know I'm here and I'd like to keep it that way."

House pursed his lips in thought and nodded briefly. "As fun as gynecology might be, I don't visit much. How long are you in for?"

"I go home tomorrow."

"My sentence is just starting. IL2?"

"Nope. Sutent."

House put his feet up on his bed and closed his eyes, though he kept talking. "Working?"

"I'm not dead yet."

House nodded at Pember's answer. That's the way it worked with cancer; either you were cured, dead or not dead.

_______

"I do actually have other patients, House."

"So tell Cuddy to stop sitting on her ass in the waiting room and get in here and do this herself. Nurse Bennet has cold hands and breath like two-month-old Thanksgiving leftovers."

Wilson smiled as he shook his head, wondering how House always seemed to know. "Swallow those pills. Cuddy can hook you up to the Interliuken2. I'll send her in."

"But, Daddy, I don't wanna. I'm tired of taking pills and being poked and prodded."

"Fine, hallucinate. See if I care."

House frowned as threw back the last of the medication required before they could begin treatment with the IL2.

_______

"I don't feel anything," House said, twenty minutes after the last of the IL2 drained out of the IV and into his body.

"You will," Cuddy said, glumly.

"Sure, promises, promises," he said, drifting off to sleep.

_______

House woke to a sharp pain in his back and the sound of the heart monitor beeping rapidly. Trying to control his breathing, he began to take long, deep breaths.

"Wilson's ordered Demerol. It'll be here in just a minute," Cuddy said, reassuringly.

_______

The following morning, House woke up feeling fine. He looked to his right and found Wilson sitting in the adjacent recliner, a blanket pulled up to his chin and his shoes kicked off and lying upside down beside him.

House reached for the pitcher of water only to find it empty. Not really wanting to wake Wilson up, but feeling parched, he nudged Wilson's shoulder with the television remote.

"Wilson," his voice cracked.

Wilson woke with a start and smiled groggily at House. "How do you feel?"

"If IL2's just going to give me a little backache, this'll be a breeze." House held out the pitcher and turned it upright, indicating it was empty.

Shaking his head, Wilson frowned. "The first dose is the easiest."

Knowing full well what was to come, House pushed the pitcher into Wilson's chest. "When's breakfast?"

"I'll order something for you, but trust me, in about two hours, you're going to wish you hadn't eaten anything after that second dose."

_______


	22. Chapter 22

As always, thanks for reading & reviewing! Okay, here comes the really horrible stuff...

Ch. 22

The shivers started in his toes. Staring at his exposed feet, House couldn't figure out why his feet were suddenly so ice-cold. And as if he were a piece of litmus paper, the shivers traveled upwards to his knees, hips, belly and chest. When it reached his shoulders, House struggled to pull the blankets over him and managed to just get himself covered before his teeth began to chatter.

The shivering morphed into uncontrollable shaking, and for the first time, House wished he was not alone. When the tremors' intensity increased, House was actually afraid he might fall out of bed. That's when the headache started. It was the first intense pain he'd felt since his nephrectomy and the pain slowly began to spread from his head to every bone in his body.

Just as House began to scream out in pain, Wilson appeared at the door, pain relief in hand. He quickly and deftly administered it, checked House's blood pressure and was promptly vomited upon.

Still shaking uncontrollably, House mumbled an embarrassed, "Sorry."

"Here," Wilson reached into the storage unit and pulled out a syringe of anti-emetic and injected it. "Nothing to be sorry about, House. Try to get some sleep, you've got at least five more days of this."

"You always say the sweetest things," House said, closing his eyes.

_______

House awoke to wet bed sheets. They were soaked in sweat and Nurse Bennet was smiling obnoxiously as she hovered over him, taking his temperature. "104. We've got to get that down," she said.

House looked to his right and found Cuddy doing her best to offer him a smile. She stood and mopped his brow with a cool cloth.

"See?" House said tiredly, "Wonder Woman."

"I told you I'd be here."

House looked to the empty bed beside him. "Pember?"

"He went home. Lie still, your blood pressure's dropping. You can't have your next dose until you're stable."

Nurse Bennet held out a urinal to him and House waved his hand. "Dry as a desert."

"No pee, no third dose," the nurse said.

Sighing, House shook his head. "Give me thirty minutes."

_______

A couple of hours and a few drops of urine later, House looked up at Cuddy, imploringly. "I have to do this how many more times?"

"As many as your body will allow; every eight hours. 10 is the goal, but we'll be lucky if you make it to seven."

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

Cuddy squeezed House's hand and whispered, "Mia."

_______

After McMillen's post-op appointment with Mia in one of PPTH's clinic exam rooms, Cuddy sent Mia upstairs to Wilson's office while she stopped in to visit with House. Mia tentatively knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Wilson barked from inside.

With a shocked look on her face, Mia raised her eyebrows, and entered. "Are you okay, Uncle Jimmy?"

Wilson bowed his head and chuckled before turning to look at her. "I'm sorry, I...I...."

"It's okay. At least you get to see him. He must be really sick if you're this angry."

Wilson sighed, calming himself down. Before Mia had entered, he'd been fuming at his desk, wondering if he had covered all the bases with House's case. "He has cancer, Mia. There is no easy fix"

"He doesn't want me around."

"He's very, very ill. He doesn't want you to be upset at seeing him that way."

Tears welled up in Mia's eyes and Wilson took hold of her wrist, and stood inches from her face.

"Look at me, Mia."

"He's really sick, isn't he? Sick enough to scare you."

Wilson nodded. "He is."

_______

Panic set in the next day. House woke himself up with his own painful groans to find Wilson stretched out in the other bed. He'd spent both nights with House, taking the evening shift, while Cuddy took most of the day shift. Conveniently, a new patient hadn't replaced Dr. Pember after he left.

"Wilson," House trembled. "Wilson. WILSON!"

Rubbing his eyes, Wilson moved as quickly as he could to House's bedside. "I'm here, it's okay."

"No. You have the key, right? The key. You know, the piano bench key."

"Calm down, House. This is the meds at work here; this panicky feeling is normal. The key is perfectly safe. I placed it in the locked drawer at my house. It's fine."

"Mia doesn't have the key?"

"She doesn't have the key."

"And Mia? Mia's okay. Mia's surgery was okay," House shook his head, trying to make sense of the various things running through his mind.

"Yes, House. Mia's surgery was fine. She was just here yesterday."

House furrowed his brow. "She was here? But, they removed her stitches before she left the hospital. What stitches, Wilson? Where's Cuddy? Does Cuddy have the key?" House was more than agitated now, and began to fuss with his blankets, trying unsuccessfully to remove them. His trembling kept him from using his hands effectively. "CUDDY!" he called out.

"Shhhh. You're going to wake the other patients. Cuddy's not here. Mia doesn't have stitches anymore. She was here for a post-op appointment with McMillen."

"The key cut Mia. Where's Mia?" House shouted.

"Mia's fine, House. No stitches. Her appointment went very well."

"Stitches? Mia has stitches? What?" House's temperature began to rise as his blood pressure plummeted, once again.

"Hey, hey. Now that's enough. We've got to get some meds into you before your blood pressure tanks. Take it easy, Mia's just fine. She's been asking to see you."

As Wilson injected yet another syringe into the PIC line, House's eyelids grew heavy. "Mia," he slurred. "Bring Mia. Tell Curly it's 'kay."

Smiling sadly, Wilson nodded as House fell asleep. "I'll be sure to tell _Curly_, House."

_______

"Dammit, get that Pethenine in here, stat!" Wilson shouted down the hallway.

Nurse Bennet came running, syringe in hand. She stared sympathetically at House who writhed in pain. Shouting over his screams, she handed the syringe to Wilson. "He just had a dose, not twenty minutes ago."

Curtly, Wilson snatched the pain relief from her hands and administered it. "And obviously it didn't work!"

_______

"I told you. Can't you count? Nine months. Do the math, _Dad_," House spat in a fevered daze, staring off into space.

Cuddy placed her hand on House's upper arm, gently pushing him back into the pillow. She untied the gown and pulled it off, leaving him lying prone with only his boxers on. Wilson placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and raised the bed so that he was more upright. A nurse brought the fan over and turned it on.

"House, hey, calm down. He's not here. He passed away years ago, remember? Shhhh, it's just me. I'm here. Wilson's here, too. We're both here, House. We're not going anywhere and when you're well enough, Mia wants to come say hello, too," Cuddy said.

"The acetaminophen and ibuprofen are in. If his blood pressure plummets any further, he's going to crash." Wilson said, running his hand behind his neck.

"Give it a chance to work, the fever will go down, the hallucinations will stop," Cuddy said reassuringly. "You should go home tonight, let me stay with him. You need a good night's sleep."

"I can't. And what about Mia?"

"She can stay at your place. She's doing well and won't give you any problems. Bring her in tomorrow morning before his next treatment, while he's lucid, and I'll take her home after that."

"You sure?"

"I want to be here tonight. Let me do this for him."

Too tired to really argue, Wilson nodded in agreement as he adjusted the IV once more. "His fever's going down. The meds and the fan are working."

________

Cuddy smiled as House opened his eyes the next morning. "Hey."

House looked at her and then over at the unkempt spare bed and looked at Cuddy again, quizzically. "You stayed?"

"Wilson needed a good night's sleep."

"How long has it been?"

"Today's the fourth day. We've gotten six treatments into you so far. You gave us a little scare yesterday," She said with a sigh.

"Mia?"

"She's waiting in the hallway to see you. Are you up for a visit?"

House sighed, frowned, debated silently, and finally nodded once. Cuddy smiled again and disappeared into the hall before returning with Mia at her side. She rubbed Mia's shoulder gently and encouraged her to step closer.

"I'll be in the hall if you need anything," Cuddy said before closing the door behind her.

Mia avoided House's gaze, instead choosing to stare at the abstract print on the wall, her shoes and finally on the IV he was hooked up to.

"Your appointment with McMillen went well," House said nonchalantly.

"It did."

"No more flip flops?"

"No."

"Should we talk about the weather next or maybe you'd like to leave so I can start my house of terrors routine."

Mia took a step closer to the bed and placed her hand on the guard rail, staring intently at her fingernails. "I don't hate you," she whispered. Several minutes passed before Mia spoke again. "Is it awful?"

"I don't recommend it."

"I'll try not to get cancer, then."

"Good choice."

"Uncle Jimmy's scared."

House furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"He looks sad all the time and he's been angry a lot, lately. He's not himself."

House closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "What did he pitch through the window this time?"

"What? No, he didn't throw anything through a window."

"He will."

Mia finally dropped her hand down and placed it on top of his. "He loves you, you know."

"Are you trying to set us up on a date?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "That's not what I mean." Mia pulled a pen and a notebook out of her bag.

"I brought you something. We never talked about your bucket list and my assignment's due soon." Mia held out one of the notebooks she'd bought with Wilson's money. "If you don't want to, I can ask Uncle Jimmy instead."

House used his thumb to motion towards the small table. "Put it there."

Mia set the notebook on the table and leaned in towards House, whispering, "I could never hate you. Not ever. I'm sorry for what I said."

House closed his eyes briefly. Feeling guilty for his own role in causing Mia to say those words in the first place, he shook his head and wondering just how much Demerol was left in his system, he said, "Me, too."

"When can you come home?"

"In two or three days."

"Promise?"

House nodded.

Cuddy appeared at the door and the pair stopped speaking, both sporting the same annoyed expression. "He needs to start treatment soon. Say your goodbye, Mia."

Mia turned back to House after her mom shut the door again and tears threatened to fall as she squeezed his hand. "Bye," she said as she turned towards the door. "Don't die."

"Yeah, I'm working on it."

_______

House retched for what seemed like the thousandth time that week, though his empty stomach produced only bile. He leaned back against the bed and sighed, beyond worn out from the rigors of being systematically poisoned.

"That's number seven," Wilson said as he stood at the foot of the bed, reviewing the chart.

Just above a whisper, House weakly mumbled, "I want at least nine doses."

"It depends on how much your body can take. You know that. If you don't recover quickly enough, then that's it. You've got another round scheduled in a couple of weeks."

"Can't wait."

"Cuddy's on her way in. I'll check in with you later, okay?"

"Yeah," House said, closing his eyes.

_______

Nurse Bennet rounded the corner near the nurses station and one look from her worried eyes sent Wilson running down the hall to House's room. He found him curled up in a tight ball on his bed, sobbing. Never having seen House in such a state before, Wilson hesitated, unsure of how to handle the situation. He gently placed a hand on House's shoulder.

"House, hey. Are you in pain?"

House said nothing. Instead, he gripped Wilson's shirt front and held on tight.

"Come on House, tell me what's going on. I can give you something for the pain. Scale of one to ten, how bad?"

House's sobs wracked his body and moistened Wilson's shirt. "Why?"

"House?"

"Why? Why?"

"Are you in pain?"

House shrugged. Wilson couldn't make sense of it, though he was beginning to think it was the meds talking; panic was a common side affect of IL2 and it easily presented itself in various ways.

"Why?"

"Why what, House? Talk to me."

House shook his head. "Why?"

Resigning himself to simply comfort House, Wilson sat on the edge of the bed, one arm bear hugging House around his chest, the other rubbing his back as if he were a child. It was all he could do.

_______

"He's hallucinating again," Cuddy said as Wilson walked in. Half an hour earlier, Cuddy had relieved Wilson of his friendship duties. "Why don't you wait outside? I can handle it."

Wilson looked at Cuddy suspiciously. "I can handle it, too."

"I know, but-" Cuddy was cutoff by House's ramblings.

"Amber, no…not ready yet….go away…have to stay."

Wilson's eyes widened, his bushy brows furrowed and his eyes suddenly glossed over. "What's his temperature?"

"107. Meds aren't bringing it down."

"BP?" Wilson asked, as he placed an oxygen mask on House.

"86/55."

Wilson paged the nurse and requested cold packs and a fan. He shook House's arm and the pair watched as House went from talking frantically in the midst of his hallucination to complete silence.

"He's unconscious," Cuddy said as she injected another syringe into his IV.

"This is his body saying no more; he's done with this round of treatment. He's not recovering quick enough between doses," Wilson said as he tore open a package and doused the bare-chested House in cool liquid.

Cuddy looked up at Wilson briefly. "You okay?"

Wilson continued to work, pouring all of his efforts into bringing House's stats back to normal as he shook his head.

_______

Smiling with tired and sad eyes, Cuddy said goodbye to Shelby and Wilson after they dropped Chris off to spend the night. Cuddy had offered, thinking Wilson might like a chance to spend some quiet time alone with Shelby for the evening. He didn't think it was necessary, but he dropped Chris off anyway at Shelby's urging.

Once back at home, Wilson stood in the living room and ran a hand through his hair, exhausted from the week's events as Shelby put a tea kettle on to boil. Every bone ached and he had the beginnings of what was sure to be a migraine.

"James?" Shelby asked in concern when she returned from the kitchen. The lights remained turned off and she found him standing in exactly the same spot as where she'd left him five minutes prior. His shoulders began to shake and Shelby embraced him.

"He's going downhill so fast," Wilson rasped.

The pair clung to each other there in the darkened living room, both lost in memories and words unsaid to a man who let very few in. That night, his sobs ceased only with restless sleep.

_______


	23. Chapter 23

Ch. 23

House pouted the following morning upon learning he wouldn't be allowed to go home. He was too weak to sign out AMA; he wouldn't get to his hospital room door, much less all the way to the elevator on his own.

"You're not radioactive, House," Wilson said with a sigh.

"You try having neon green poop and then tell me whether or not I'm radioactive."

Wilson set his jaw as he finished scribbling a few notes in House's chart. "Mia wants to know if she can spend the day with you. Cuddy says she's bouncing off the walls at home."

House rolled his eyes. "I'm too tired for company."

"Mia still needs to rest; she's not supposed to do much more than watch television and she can do that here." Wilson paused, debating on whether or not to continue. "And it would be a lot easier on Cuddy if Mia was here where she can keep an eye on her."

"Don't try to pull the emotional stuff on me, Wilson. It won't work."

"So can she come or not? It's either Mia or a real, puking roommate."

"Fine."

_______

"Hi," Mia said from the doorway.

House put his fingers to his lips, shushing her, before he waved her inside. "Nick just learned that Faye is his biological mother and that Bridget, his fiance, is actually his sister."

Mia rolled her eyes and sat down on the other bed. "Do we really have to watch this stuff?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"Wake me up when it's over," she said, kicking her shoes off and crawling under the covers.

"You shouldn't be tired," House said, eyeing her without moving his head.

"I'm not, but mom said I had to stay either in bed or in a chair while I'm here and the chairs are uncomfortable. If I'm going to lie in bed, I might as well sleep. It'll make the day go faster."

"Sorry I'm such bad company," House said sarcastically.

"Just give me a heads up if you're gonna puke."

"Haven't vomited since last night. You're in the clear. So, are you going to continue to pretend I don't look any different?"

Mia cast her eyes downward. Her ruse to be as normal as possible had not slipped past House. "You're all puffy."

"Excess fluid. It's normal."

"And your skin is peely."

"Again, normal. Think of it as the world's worst chemical peel."

"Are you coming home tomorrow?"

House turned the television off as the ending credits began to roll. "Yep."

"Good. I hate hospitals."

"That makes two of us," House said, pulling his IV stand closer to the bed and adjusting it himself.

"What are you doing?"

"Temp's up."

"Should I get Uncle Jimmy?" Mia asked, standing up from the bed.

"No, I"m fine."

"I don't think y-"

"Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"Then don't think."

Mia eyed him, put on her shoes and grabbed her wallet. "I'm going to get a soda. Want anything?"

"Tell Wilson you're overreacting when you squeal on me and then bring me some jello. Red, not that green stuff."

Mia shot him a smirk as she walked out.

_______

Wilson stood in Cuddy's office the following morning and watched as she tapped her pen on the desk. "He's ready to go home."

"I know," Cuddy said with a sigh.

He sat opposite her and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "I know it's hard. He can stay with me, but he can't stay here forever. He rested yesterday, his stats were good last night and this morning and it's time, Cuddy. He needs to go home."

Cuddy closed her eyes. "Send him home. This is going to sound awful, but I like being here."

"No one likes taking care of a terminally ill patient."

Her eyebrows knit together tightly as she shook her head. "Don't. Don't you dare do that. He could still pull out of this. There's a chance."

"A very narrow chance. He's accepted the fact that he might die."

"He's accepted the fact that if he dies, he won't be in pain anymore. He hasn't accepted death," Cuddy spat.

Putting his hands up defensively, Wilson leaned back in his chair. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. You're right. He's welcomed to stay at our place."

"No," Cuddy said, standing. "He belongs at home."

"Your home."

"That's what I meant."

_______

House was stretched out on the sofa at Cuddy's. Weeks had passed since his first treatment and he was home alone. Cuddy was at work, the home nurse had left minutes earlier and Mia was due home from school any minute.

Running his hand over his now bald head, House sighed. Using every ounce of energy he had, House limped the five short steps to the piano, leaned the cane against the side of the bench and began to play a simple tune. Less than five minutes later, he stopped with a sigh, too tired to play any more.

"Scoot," Mia said from behind him, startling House momentarily.

"Didn't know you were home."

Mia shrugged as she waited for House to sit on the couch and she began to play. Mia's lessons had ended shortly before her surgery and Mia had decided she didn't want lessons anymore. No one protested her choice and she wondered if it was out of respect for her decision or if it was just something not worth arguing about. It didn't seem to matter at the moment; playing the piano filled the silence and both House and Mia relaxed as she played.

_______

Some time later that afternoon, House handed a piece of paper to Mia. "Here."

"You finished it?"

"Yep."

Mia looked down at the bucket list and smiled. "Thank you."

House nodded. "I'm going to bed. Tell Cuddy I'm not interested in dinner."

Mia reached down and gave him a quick squeeze around his neck. "Is tomorrow going to be as bad as the last time?"

He nodded. "Worse."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

_______

"You don't have to do this, you know," Cuddy said, as she wheeled House into PPTH.

"Yeah, well, cancer kids, you know."

Cuddy smiled as she leaned down to whisper in his ear. "And you care _so_ much about all those cancer kids."

House leaned back in the wheelchair to look up at Cuddy, smirking. "I'm just doing my part."

"Mom, when can I go back to school?" Mia asked from behind her.

"We've talked about this, Mia. You can wait four more days; it won't kill you."

"It might. I'm sick of sitting at home and I'm tired of these check-ups. I'm fine now."

"Let McMillen be the judge of that," Cuddy said. "And another thing, I don't want you running after Red again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mom," Mia said, making an annoyed face in House's direction. House returned the gesture by opening and closing his thumb and four fingers on one hand several times, indicating Cuddy was yapping away.

"Shut up, House," Cuddy said.

"What? I didn't say a word."

Cuddy pushed House into the elevator and pressed the fourth floor button. Before the doors had a chance to shut, Wilson stuck his hand out, forcing the doors back open.

"Hey," Wilson said, entering the car.

House stared open-mouthed at Wilson, unable to hide his shock. Surprised by what he saw, House was momentarily unable to come up with anything witty.

"Nice, House. Usually the drooling-blank-stare doesn't hit until end stage," Wilson said.

Mia frowned. "That's not funny, Uncle Jimmy."

House sent Wilson a half grin. "So, Mr. Clean, you've informed my team?"

"I did."

"I'm not knocking on death's door yet; don't want them visiting me."

"I know, just like last time. No visitors."

"Great," he said as they exited the elevator, "now lets get the four strands of hair I have left shaved off so I can focus on my torture treatments."

_______

"You ready?"

"Ask again and I won't do it."

"Touchy," Cameron said as she lowered the clippers to House's scalp.

Four makeshift barber's chairs lined one end of the fourth floor hall. Cameron, Kutner, a pediatric nurse and Dr. Finley, from head and neck surgery, stood poised with shaving clippers in hand as shavees readied themselves to suddenly find shampoo useless.

"Ow," House spat, swatting at Cameron's hand. "Take the hair, not the ears."

Cameron rolled her eyes and placed one hand on her hip. "I haven't even started yet. Would you rather Kutner do it?"

House frowned. "Just hurry up."

As Cameron began to shave House's head, Chase sat in the adjacent chair. House and Chase eyed one another briefly.

"Sure you wanna do that, Chase? Nothing for sweetums here to run her fingers through."

"And what are you going to run your fingers through?" Chase asked, motioning towards the chair on the other side of House.

Looking somewhat perplexed, "I don't have…."

"That's right," Cameron mocked, "you couldn't possibly admit you have someone, now could you?"

House looked towards the other chair, where Cuddy sat patiently, waiting for the nurse to shave her head. House's eyes grew wide and shot a glance at Wilson who watched with interest at House's reaction.

"You're not serious?"

"What?" Cuddy asked. "It's only hair."

Trying to not to let the others see him sweat and desperately sending every nonverbal clue in Wilson's direction, House tried to make sense of the situation. "You're seriously going to sit here and shave your head? What will your precious donors think?"

"Considering most of them paid big bucks to have the dean shave her head, I think they'd be pleased."

"What would you say if I told you I'd stop treatment if you shave your head?"

All sounds seemed to stop at that moment. The nurse, Cameron and Kutner all silenced their clippers and the fourth barber set his down, too. Despite all that House had done to keep his cancer treatment under wraps, word had gotten out as soon as he started treatment and everyone knew the most notorious doctor at PPTH was fighting for his life.

Cuddy looked over at House with a hint of fear in her eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I'm still making my own medical decisions; I'm not incapacitated yet. I can walk out those doors any time I like and die in peace if I so choose."

Mia approached House, tears forming in her eyes. "Please don't."

"You're okay with Cuddy shaving her head?" House asked her.

Mia shrugged. "It's only hair."

"And I suppose you're going to shave your head, too? And let me guess, for my benefit?"

"Well, no, but…."

"Cameron finish what you're doing," House said with an angry note to his voice. He looked Cuddy in the eye.

The pair sat with eyes locked, neither willing to give in to the other one's bluff. Cuddy looked over at Wilson and he shrugged, not knowing how to diffuse the situation. She looked back at House and finally conceded by standing and walking away.

_______

"I won't be back until late this evening," Cuddy said as she adjusted the drip on House's IV. "Mia's got her check-up with McMillen and I've got a board meeting."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I don't need you hovering over me like I'm a pathetic cancer patient."

"No, just an irritating one."

"I survived the first round."

"The second round is always more difficult; you know that."

"Tell Mia not to shave her head."

"Mia's not going to shave her head," Cuddy said, looking like House had lost his mind.

"I saw that look in her eye when you got out of the chair. Just tell her."

"Mia's not going to shave her head, House. Don't be ridicu-" Before Cuddy could finish her sentence, Mia walked into House's room, her scalp completely smooth.

Looking a bit shell shocked, it was obvious that Mia knew she had made a colossal mistake. "Too late," Mia said, her eyes cast downward.

"Mia Rose Cuddy!" Cuddy exclaimed. "What have you done?"

"It's only hair," House sneered. He turned his attention to Mia. "And I suppose Kutner convinced you to raise donations for the cancer kids, too?"

Mia shook her head as tears fell. "I..I thought, maybe…you wouldn't want to be the only bald one around."

House closed his eyes and shook his head, almost laughing in disbelief. "_Shave-a-thon_. Have you looked around here lately? Half the staff shaved their heads today."

"I only did it for you."

"Well, you shouldn't have."

Mia looked at him in confusion. "I thought-"

"You thought wrong. I don't need everyone around me shaving their heads so I won't feel sorry for myself."

Mia shook her head and backed out of the room and as she left, House called out, "And you can tell Wilson the same thing goes for him."

House pulled at the top blanket and reached for the water basin, retching into it as the first wave of the IL2 hit. He cursed under his breath as he felt the shivers coming on.

"Great job, House. Once again, you've hurt the one person on this earth who can forgive you for just about anything. You made me a promise a long time ago that you wouldn't hurt her," Cuddy said, grabbing her coat and rushing off to find Mia.

House leaned back into his bed, mission accomplished. He hated to do it, but he was finally alone, without prying eyes pitying him. Holding the bucket up to his face, he wretched again.

_______

"Dr. House?" Nurse Bennet asked as she walked in.

"What?" he snapped.

"How are you feeling this afternoon?"

His teeth chattering, House glared at her. "How do you think I feel? My skin is melting away, I've lost everything I've eaten for the past month, I've had people poking and prodding me and touching me where even my own mother has never laid a finger, and _I hurt_. Other than that, I feel just great."

"I can check with Dr. Wilson to see if he can up your pain meds."

"Yeah, why don't you go do that."

Nurse Bennet tried to be sympathetic, nodded and after she checked his IV, she left in search of Wilson.

_______

Cuddy approached Wilson at the nurse's station and smiled tiredly. "How's he doing?"

"His fever spiked again but no hallucinations…yet. " Wilson flipped one chart closed and grabbed another. "He's in more pain," he sighed.

"Morphine?"

"If it gets any worse, I'll-"

Wilson was cut short by a loud moaning coming from down the hall. Cuddy looked sharply at Wilson as they approached House's room. "Just how much more pain?"

The pair rushed into House's room and found him curled up, writhing in pain and panting in between moaning.

"It's bad," Wilson said absentmindedly as he prepared a syringe.

"Brilliant observation," Cuddy retorted as she sat on the edge of House's bed and ran her hand down his back. House flailed his arm, effectively pushing her away with a grunt.

Wilson injected the syringe and looked at Cuddy. "You've been hanging around him too much."

Cuddy shook her head as she did her best to comfort House. His eyes fluttered momentarily, his shaking subsided and he soon fell into a deep.

_______

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said a short while later as she and Wilson again stood near the nurse's station.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he said genuinely. "Why don't I take Mia home with me? You can either stay here or go home and get some rest."

Cuddy nodded. "You don't mind?"

Wilson smiled and shook his head. "How was her appointment?"

"Couldn't have been better."

"That's good."

"Would you mind swinging by our place? She needs to pick up her school things"

"Not at all."

Cuddy reached up on her toes as she embraced Wilson. "Thank you."

_______

Mia and Chris sat on the rug in front of the television; Red was between them. A long, red, silk scarf was wrapped expertly around Mia's head, a gift from Shelby, who had become quite the scarf aficionado during her own cancer treatment.

Wilson and Shelby sat together on the couch, neither paying any attention to what was on the television. When the show ended, Shelby guided Chris to his room, leaving Mia and Wilson alone.

"Can I show you something?" Mia asked as she picked up her backpack.

"Sure."

Mia sat down next to him, curled one leg underneath her and unfolded a sheet of notebook paper. "Here."

"What's this?"

"Dad's bucket list."

Wilson's eyes softened just a bit when he realized what he was looking at. "Dad?"

Mia blushed slightly. "He said I could call him that."

Wilson read the list aloud. "Number one: See a firefly," Wilson looked quizzically at Mia, "Huh. He's never seen one?"

Mia shrugged. "Guess not."

"Number two: Disneyworld." Wilson immediately started to chuckle.

"What?"

"Can you see your dad with Mickey's arm around his shoulders, mugging for a picture?"

Mia giggled a little but stopped herself short, her eyebrows knit together and tears filled her eyes. She shook her head.

Wilson pulled her close, kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder. "I know," he whispered.

He turned his attention back to the list, determined to read the rest of it. "Number three: Sit in Gravedigger." Wilson smiled at that thought. "Number four: visit Niagara Falls."

Wilson turned the paper over, raising an eyebrow. "That's it? Four things? That's all he wants to do before he dies?"

Mia nodded. "I don't need that anymore, my paper's finished. I thought you might want it."

"Thanks," Wilson said, tucking it back into his pocket.

_______

Wilson knocked before he entered House's hospital room. Once again, the spare bed was empty. He found Cuddy sitting in the chair, her head and arms stretched over one side of House's bed, her hand covering his. Startled, she scrambled to sit up, looking disheveled and sleep deprived. She relaxed when she realized it was Wilson at the door. He walked in and shut the door behind him and Cuddy motioned for Wilson to take a seat next to her.

"It was a bad night," she said. "His fever spiked twice, hallucinations started after the second time and then he had breakthrough pain. Nothing touched it. And this is only the first dose. I don't know how he's going to make it to seven, much less ten."

Wilson ran a hand down his face. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"I'm glad I was. I needed to be here."

"How is he this morning?"

"Trying to sleep, except I've got two people who won't shut up sitting next to my bed," House said without opening his eyes or turning over to face them.

"How's the pain now?" Wilson asked, taking a quick glance at the monitors.

"Seven."

Wilson stood to retrieve a syringe of morphine. "We can give-"

"No, just start the next dose. "

Cuddy walked around the bed so that she stood in front of him. His eyes were closed and she had no intention of leaving the room without looking him in the eye. She leaned down and placed a peck on his nose. House cracked one eye open. Upon seeing Cuddy, both eyes shot open and he arched a brow.

"What have you done?"

"Don't worry," Cuddy said, replacing her knit cap, "I wouldn't dare do something like this for you. I couldn't refuse the million dollars one of the donors put up."

House snorted though his nose. "You."

Cuddy shook her head. "That's it?"

House shrugged. "Your head's not as pointy as Wilson's." Wilson stepped closer, ready to defend his perfectly round head when House interrupted him. "You lied to me."

Cuddy shot him a smirk. "I called your bluff. When I said I had donors who would pay good money to see me shave my head, I meant it."

"So, would you sleep with them for a million, too?" House asked.

Ignoring House, Cuddy sent Wilson a half smile of defeat and left the room.

"You're an idiot," Wilson said as he walked around to the other side of House's bed. He looked him in the eye. "Care to explain this?" he asked, holding up the bucket list.

"It's a bucket list."

Wilson looked at him in disbelief. "For someone else, maybe. You can't tell me the crankiest doctor….no person, the crankiest person I know, wants to go to the happiest place on earth."

"It's what Mia wanted."

"Since when do you start giving people what they want?" Wilson said, sitting down on the empty bed.

House said nothing. He moved the water basin from the table top to a spot next to his pillow and then closed his eyes.

Wilson watched House for a few minutes before speaking again. "You think you're dying. _That's_ why you gave Mia what you think she wanted." Wilson thought for a moment before walking over to House's bedside. "Ever think that maybe all she wants from you is a little honesty?"

"You know as well as I do that my body isn't holding up well to the treatment. One treatment, Wilson. One treatment and the hallucinations started. All it would take is a seizure, or for my blood pressure to drop to low."

"And you know as well as I do that this is your only option. The Sutent trials have been all over the map and not nearly as successful as the IL2."

"Go away."

Wilson pursed his lips, glanced at the water basin and asked, "Do you need an anti-emetic?"

House shook his head. "Just want to be ready for the evil wonder woman when she gets back with my bag of liquid fun."

Wilson moved towards the door. "We're not done talking about this, you know."

House waved flippantly at him as Wilson walked away.

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	24. Chapter 24

This is the last chapter for a couple of weeks. I don't have the next one written yet, I won't have a chance to work on it until this weekend, and then my ever wonderful betas need to look at it, so it'll be a while. After this week's over, I will really knuckle down and get this thing finished. Thanks for reading & reviewing. :)

ETA: Again with the mistake! I uploaded the wrong version of this chapter. So, here is the correct version!

Ch. 24

House lost track of time and the next two days passed in a blur. Unlike the first round of treatment, this second round proved to be far more difficult; he experienced severe pain every waking second, uncontrollable vomiting, severe hallucinations, dips in blood pressure and high temperatures. His body was simply unable to handle the potent drug. Two hours after his third treatment, Wilson walked into his room and found him unresponsive.

"House?" he asked with a fisted sternum rub. "_House_."

Wilson checked the monitors and found House was breathing and both his pulse and temperature elevated. He called in a pair of nurses, and just as they approached the room, House began to seize.

"Page Dr. Cuddy," Wilson hissed as he frantically disconnected the vitriol liquid that was killing not only the cancer, but House himself.

Syringes were emptied, the seizure ceased, and ten minutes later Cuddy appeared at House's bedside. "What happened?" she asked.

"This round of treatment is done," Wilson said, sitting in the chair beside House. "He seized. He was unconscious when I walked in and then he started seizing." Wilson looked up at Cuddy, his eyes red and swollen. "He's unconscious."

Cuddy stood motionless, unable to tear her eyes away from House. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. "What now?"

"If he…." Wilson shook his head, "_When_ he wakes, we need to get him stable. He's scheduled for a full workup later this week to check his progress. Until then, we wait."

Cuddy sighed deeply. "Should I let his team know?"

Wilson looked at her sharply. "No. He's not dying today."

_______

He tried batting at the bee that was buzzing in his ear, despite not being able to see it and when the buzzing became louder, House called out, "Go away!", though it sounded more like, "Groah!" to those standing at his bedside.

Wilson adjusted the monitor and noted the time in the chart. "House, hey, come on. Wake up now," he said, giving House a nudge on the shoulder.

Still trying to bat at the pesky bee, House wondered where Wilson was when he realized the buzzing noise had stopped. Very slowly, he opened his eyes and found a tired-looking Wilson looking down on him, flanked by two nurses who seemed to have just finished changing his bedding.

"Mwah tim 's 't?"

Wilson furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Tim, W'sin. Mwah tim 's t'?" House's eyes widened as he realized how abnormal his speech sounded.

"It's okay," Wilson said, resting a hand on House's shoulder. "You seized. It's been a day and half, but you're okay now. Your speech will come back, give it a few hours. It's almost four pm."

"S'cks."

"Yes, it does suck."

House looked around the room, noting his IV stand lacked the IL2. He looked questioningly up at Wilson as he motioned with his thumb towards the IV.

"This round is over; your body didn't tolerate it well."

"Meny?"

"We only go three doses into you."

House shook his head. "'S kay. Mir."

"No, it's not okay. No more this time. Give it a week and we'll try again."

House looked around the room and past the nurses as they exited the room. Wilson watched him when it dawned on him who House was looking for. "Cuddy went to pick Mia up from school. She'll be here soon. You should get some rest," he said, upping House's pain meds after watching him wince.

_______

He next woke when he felt her hand in on his. Opening his eyes, he watched as Cuddy's face lit up in relief.

"Wanna go home."

She smiled warmly. "You can go home after they run a few tests tomorrow."

"No, wanna go home now."

"Tough," she said, squeezing his hand. "There's someone here to see you."

"Don't want visitors," House said, his voice still groggy but his speech once again normal.

"She's not a visitor. She's your daughter."

House gave her a stern glare. "What did you say to her?"

Again Cuddy smiled. "Nothing. She just wants to see you, okay?"

House sighed as he nodded in agreement.

Cuddy motioned for Mia to walk in, kissing her lightly on the cheek as she passed over the threshold. "Just for a minute or two. He needs to sleep."

"He needs to eat," House said with a raised eyebrow.

"Anything special?" Cuddy asked.

"Rice pudding."

"Eeew," Mia said, scrunching up her nose.

"What? I like it."

"Rice pudding it is, then," Cuddy said on her way out.

Mia dropped her book bag to the floor and sat on the edge of House's bed. House noted how tired she looked. He'd seen the same look in Cuddy's eyes. She pulled out a notebook and set it next to him on small table.

"I thought you might like this," she said, placing a pen on top.

"Already gave you the list."

"Uncle Jimmy thought you might want to doodle or something."

House eyed her knowingly. "Because I just love to doodle."

Mia shrugged. "Send your team hate mail. Just don't tell them I suggested it."

House smiled weakly. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

A corner of Mia's mouth turned down as she looked at everything other than his eyes. "Some."

"I'm fine now."

"Yeah," she said, neither believing his words. "You've never seen a firefly? Really?"

"Nope."

"I did, last summer at camp. They were everywhere."

"Never went to camp."

"No. You only went to Egypt," she said with a smirk.

"No fireflies in Egypt," he whined.

"Maybe we can look for some when you get better."

House inhaled deeply and nodded. The two sat in silence for a while. He sat with his eyes closed, and she occasionally glanced at him, knowing he was wide awake. It felt good to sit there with him, despite his peeling skin and pinkish, swollen hands. Even in his current condition, House still somehow managed to make her feel safe.

And when Cuddy appeared at the doorway, House opened his eyes. Mia shared a quick smile with him, which he somewhat returned, and she walked out to the hall to join her mom, feeling considerably better than she had the night before.

_______

Cuddy stood in front of mirror in the master bathroom after throwing her head scarf haphazardly on the bed. She ran a hand over her scalp, feeling the prickly hairs beginning to return. She didn't hear House approach her and when he appeared in the mirror, she gasped slightly. He stood behind her and the pair stared at one another in the mirror before speaking.

"We're a matched set," she said, trying to be upbeat but not feeling an ounce of it.

"You didn't have to do it."

"I know."

"Or Mia."

"She wanted to."

"Or Chris, or Wilson, or my team."

"They did it for you."

"Falstaff looks like a man in drag. Women just shouldn't be bald."

Cuddy furrowed her brow and her shoulders dropped. If she hadn't been so exhausted, his words would have likely caused her to tear up, but she didn't. She couldn't. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes momentarily. House turned her around by the shoulder and lightly ran his hand across her scalp.

"I look awful," Cuddy whispered.

"You look like a dean who tried to one-up her jerk of a boyfriend."

Cuddy wrapped her arms around him and waited for him to return the hug. Moments later, he did.

"Just promise me one thing," she said.

"What now?"

"Don't die and don't ever get cancer again, because I'm not shaving my head for love or money."

House smiled weakly and placed a kiss on her scalp. "Did you really get a million bucks?"

Cuddy shrugged. "I would have done it anyway."

_______

House sat in a wheelchair, Cuddy leaned on the desk behind them and Wilson stood at his lightboard, studying the scans in front of him.

House squinted as he studied them. "Gimme that," he said, pointing to the one on the left.

Wilson plucked it from the light source and passed it to House, a slow smile creeping across his face. Cuddy covered her mouth, on the verge of tears despite her smile.

"They're gone," House said, sounding perplexed.

Wilson nodded, smiling openly now. "They are. All of them but the one on your spine and that one's considerably smaller."

"But I didn't even finish the last two rounds of treatment."

"It's a powerful, powerful drug, House," Wilson said, replacing the scan on the board. "You need to finish out the treatment schedule, but this is looking really promising. I haven't seen renal cell respond this well in more than eight years." If House didn't know better, he could have sworn Wilson was about to start jumping up and down, yelling "Hooray" at the top of his lungs.

House closed his eyes and hung his head. He was considerably weaker than he had been only a month before. Three rounds of treatment down, two more to go. The last session hadn't been any better than the second. He'd gotten four doses of the IL2 in, but the last dose again induced a seizure and House had suffered two more at home.

His days were spent watching television when he was awake. Once a week his team gathered at Cuddy's, each wearing surgical masks to protect him from even the simplest cold; his immune system was shot. They'd review the week's workload, seek his advice and guidance on particularly difficult cases and though no one spoke of it, took mental note of his condition to report back to Wilson once they returned to the hospital.

Evenings were spent with Mia, mostly. Cuddy went to work later in the mornings and returned home later in the evenings, while a home nurse sat with House. He didn't hate her. He didn't like her, either. Her name was Camille and she was pretty but not too pretty, which he imagined was Cuddy's doing. She left him alone for the most part, showing up in time to administer meds, or if he needed assistance in the bathroom. All dignities were now lost and once again, he handed over his rights to dignity each time he was poked and prodded, assisted to the bathroom, and every time someone held a basin for him to vomit into.

House had become somewhat modest in Cuddy's presence. She wanted to help. She thought he'd enjoy a sponge bath given by her, but he always refused. Cuddy wondered if Camille was maybe a little too pretty, until she learned from Camille that House refused to be bathed by her, either. He allowed her to assist him into the bathtub, but then demanded she leave until he was ready to get out.

Baths exhausted him. Once he thought he'd scrubbed off most of his peeling skin, which seemed a monumental task, he could barely keep his eyes open enough to enjoy just sitting in the warm water. It was horrible enough having to rely on someone to use the restroom. Taking a bath alone was his last vestige of self-reliance that he could muster, and he was unwilling to give up that small bit of independence just yet, even if it meant giving up the possibility of enjoying a sponge bath given by Cuddy, or even Nurse Camille.

Days and nights seemed to meld into one and bouts of pain sometimes clouded his memory, as did the infrequent seizures. Keeping track of time became difficult and for that reason, he picked up the notebook Mia had left for him.

It started with simply writing the date at the top of each page. Then he decided he'd mark his symptoms down, reasoning Wilson might want to know. Symptoms morphed into remarks about Nurse Camille, which morphed into complaints of being bored, which then morphed into other thoughts. It started off as one word 'wants' as he called them. "Vicodin" and "Morphine" topped the list at first, but they were soon followed by other things. "Eating without puking" was a frequent one, as was "egg salad". House knew egg salad was an odd want, particularly because even just the thought of it made him nauseous, but he missed the days when he could eat anything, especially if it meant stealing one of Wilson's homemade egg salad sandwiches at lunch in the cafeteria.

The notebook was kept well hidden. He dreaded the idea of Wilson finding it and gloating or poking fun at his desire to eat something as mundane as an egg salad sandwich. He also knew Wilson would never do such a thing. House kept it hidden anyway.

_______

"Dad?" Mia asked.

"You're not still calling me that, are you?"

"Do you really hate it?"

House rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

Mia smiled as she entered his room, sitting in the empty wheelchair. House was propped up against the headboard, a medical journal sat open beside him.

"You know the bucket list assignment?"

House nodded.

"I got an A on it," she said, looking slightly guilty.

"So why do you look like Wilson when he's lying to me?"

"Because I interviewed Mr. Bowman up the street about being the son of parents who were held in a concentration camp. I did the interview with an older person report instead of the bucket list assignment."

House studied her and sighed deeply. "Because you knew my answers were fake."

Mia smiled in relief. "Yeah."

"I haven't seen a firefly. That was the truth."

Mia thumbed through one of the medical journals on the nightstand as she thought about what he said. "But…do you _want_ to see a firefly?"

House stared at the ceiling, slowly nodding in response. He looked up to find her staring at him. "Yeah, I do."

Mia walked towards the door and raised an eyebrow. "You should write it in your notebook."

_______

It was almost a game, that notebook. It became House's security blanket, in part because he had continued to keep track of the days and his self-monitoring of his symptoms, but in bigger part because it was the very last thing that was his own. His privacy no longer belonged to him, nor his schedule. He was certainly not in control of the cancer that was raiding his body and he no longer had control over the sudden urge to sleep at any given moment during the day.

And so the game began. He knew about the notebook, as did everyone around him, and yet everyone pretended as if it didn't exist. He'd stash it away when someone entered the room and they'd pretend they hadn't seen it.

It was the fifth of March when House had written the words, _See a firefly_ at the top of the page. It was immediately followed by, _Tell Wilson to shut up about it._

And on March eighth, when Mia had flashed him a bright smile and a genuine, "I'll be thinking about you all day," as she rushed off to school, he wrote the words that he'd previously held near and dear to his heart, never having allowed Cuddy or Wilson in on his little want.

_Tell Mia I'm her dad before the lights go out._

_______


	25. Chapter 25

No, your eyes are not deceiving you! Yes, this IS the next chapter in Theirs! I'm finally writing again after a very long bout of writer's block. Sorry for the very long wait and thanks for reading!! As always, thanks to my brilliant betas chippers87, lucyvanflick & wrytingtyme.

Ch. 25

Cuddy stood in Wilson's office, mouth agape, eyes wide. She shook her head slowly, afraid to believe what she was seeing before her. "Are you sure?"

Wilson's eyes were wet. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"How?"

Wilson shrugged as he turned off the lightboard. "The percentage of recovery is next to nil. He should have been terminal." Wilson's voice caught in his throat with the last word. He looked up at the ceiling, smiling slightly. The unshed tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.

"So, he's in remission."

Wilson shook his head. "No, let's not jump the gun yet. He needs to undergo one last round of treatment, and then we wait to see if it grows, but if he continues on as well as he's doing right now, then yes, he'll be in remission."

Accepting the tissue Wilson offered to her, Cuddy blotted her eyes with a slight smile. "You did it."

He turned the desk lamp on, shuffled through a few papers, and tried to appear professional, despite the giddy sense of relief stemming from his stomach. "He did it."

Cuddy placed a hand on top of Wilson's, to keep him from fidgeting with the papers in front of him. "No. You did. If you hadn't gone back to check on him that night he tried to give himself the ultrasound, who knows how long he would have hidden it from us." Cuddy squeezed his hand before letting go. "He's lucky he has you for a friend."

With his head bowed, Wilson glared at a specific file in front of him, the one labeled, "House, Gregory". He was equally as thankful that he had been there that night, but something on House's file caught his eye. As he looked at it more closely, he detected a stray pen mark that wrapped around to the inside of the folder. A frown forming, he opened the file. Inside, he found an arrow, leading to a sticky-note:

_You donated $32 to the dying cripple fund. _

_Your wallet thought you should know._

Wilson sighed as he proceeded to follow the thick, black line that led away from the note and across five sheets of House's file, where he found a second sticky-note:

_Rueben, no pickles._

_noon today, or you _

_may never see your wallet again. _

Wilson looked up, intending to show Cuddy the ransom note inside House's file, but found he was alone in his office. He walked over to his coat and searched the pockets, which turned up nothing. He was frustrated that House would steal his wallet, the money inside, and demand lunch that afternoon. Growing angrier by the moment, he searched the other pocket, where he found his driver's license and A.T.M. card.

Mumbling to no one but himself, he grabbed his car keys from his desk drawer and House's patient file. He shook his head and opened the door to his office. "So nice of House to leave me _some_ method of payment, because my biggest burning desire is to stop what I'm doing and run the risk of being late for my afternoon appointments just to spend my lunch hour with…."

Wilson paused after he locked his office and closed his eyes. He leaned his head against the nameplate on the door and inhaled deeply. Gathering himself, he made his way to the elevator, entered an open car, and as the doors closed, he stared at the Diagnostics wing in the distance, grateful for the chance to spend his lunch with House.

_______

"Got my note?" a familiar voice called out from the kitchen, when Wilson walked in. Wilson nodded a quick hello to Nurse Franklin who had let him in.

"What exactly do you need $32 for, anyway?" Wilson asked, carrying a Rueben sandwich and a turkey croissant. He set them on the kitchen table before grabbing two sodas from the refrigerator.

House unwrapped the white paper, and did a quick search for pickles. "Hookers cost twice the price when you look like I do."

Wilson choked on his soda, before eyeing House. "So, what was is it really for?"

House took a large bite of his sandwich and mumbled, "Mia."

"What does she need money for?"

"Field trip," House said, putting the sandwich down. He motioned towards the wheelchair. "The other drivers at the bank drive-through wouldn't give me the right of way."

"You could have asked."

"Why? You would have given it, anyway."

Knowing House was right, Wilson dropped the subject, instead choosing to take note of House's physical condition: his color was good, his eyes bright. He was attempting to eat.

"You look good today," he said in his least patronizing way possible.

House waved him off. "Here," he said, pulling Wilson's wallet out from behind him.

"Thanks. So, how's your pain?"

"Let me enjoy at least three bites before you start the oncologist thing."

"Sorry." Wilson paused as he watched House struggle to get his second bite down. "Plan on eating more than three bites?"

"No."

Wilson tried not to look sympathetic as he watched his friend. "Want me to take the rest of the afternoon off?"

"Nope. I can watch the monster truck video alone. Don't need a babysitter."

Knowing this was likely House's plan all along, Wilson wrapped up both sandwiches; House was done after three bites and Wilson had suddenly lost interest in his own lunch.

"I suppose Cuddy knows I'm here?" Wilson rolled his eyes in realization. "She's the one who stole my wallet and placed the cards in my pocket."

House gingerly moved to the wheelchair as Wilson kept it from rolling. "Yep."

"My afternoon appointments?" Wilson asked, as he wheeled House to the family room.

"Rescheduled."

Wilson turned to look at Nurse Franklin as he clumsily waved between himself and House, indicating that he would be staying. She nodded, grabbed her sweater from the back room and quietly left the men to their monster trucks.

"In the chair or out?" Wilson asked.

"Chair's fine."

Wilson looked at House, who now seemed exhausted from the simple act of moving from one room to the other. Wilson knew House was too worn out to move from the wheelchair, so he sat in the chair adjacent to House, took his shoes off, and placed his feet on the end of the coffee table.

"Let me know if you need your pills."

House nodded as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

_______

Wilson woke to the smell of something baking in the kitchen. He looked down at himself and found he was covered in a blanket and when he looked towards his left, there sat House, with the corner of his mouth turned up mockingly.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"You look like an old man, or a baby with his woobie."

"Have you seen yourself lately? You practically glow in the dark."

"Yeah, but glow in the dark is so totally the new black." House paused a moment as his smirk grew. "Remind me to tell that to Foreman."

Wilson held up the corner of the blanket and looked questioningly at House. "Did you-?"

"You're asking the guy who didn't have the energy to get out of the wheelchair?"

Wilson conceded with a nod. "What's cooking?"

House shrugged. "Mia's in there. It's either a frozen quiche or something not fit for the dog."

Wilson started to laugh but stopped abruptly when Mia appeared at the door.

"Thanks for the blanket," Wilson said.

"You're welcome."

"What's for dinner?"

"Quiche. Mom'll be here in just a few minutes."

Mia walked over to House and handed him three pills and a glass of water. Wilson watched what was a nightly ritual as House palmed the pills, threw them back in his mouth, and swallowed them dry. He then handed the glass back to Mia, still full. She then rolled her eyes, took a sip and walked back to the kitchen.

_______

Later that evening, once House was in bed and Wilson had gone home, Cuddy perched on the edge of the couch, helping Mia to cover up with the same blanket given to Wilson earlier that day.

"You don't need to tuck me in."

"I know," Cuddy said, leaning down to place a kiss on Mia's forehead. "You did good tonight, taking care of both of them."

Mia looked up at Cuddy with a genuinely innocent expression, which reminded Cuddy of a time when Mia was much younger and House much healthier.

"You told me to take care of them."

"But I didn't have to. You would have done it, regardless."

Mia's innocence extended into a sleepy yawn as she said, "I love them." She turned over onto her side, slipped her hand under the pillow and closed her eyes. "Tell Dad to say goodbye to me before he leaves."

_______

House sat in a wheelchair, staring at the whiteboard in the diagnostic conference room. He yawned deeply as he read through the symptoms on the whiteboard. The team was off running tests on their newest patient, while Foreman was likely taking advantage of his job title and sleeping in.

Wilson had been paged minutes earlier, leaving House to sit alone for a few minutes. He yawned again, ran his hand down his face and then studied the whiteboard. With great effort, he rolled over to it, picked up the marker and wrote, _HIVES?_ on the side, in large letters. Capping the marker, he sat back, closed his eyes and shook his head. He was tired of being tired.

"House?" Cuddy asked, startling him.

"Here to take me to my last round of torture treatment?"

"No, I thought Wilson was tak-"

"He was paged."

Cuddy perched on the tabletop, facing House. He refused to look up at her. "Mia said you didn't say goodbye before you left."

"She was asleep."

"She's scared. Couldn't you have at least said goodbye?"

"I don't plan on dying today."

"That's not the point," she said, standing up. "She specifically slept on the couch so you wouldn't have to go upstairs. I told you that."

Before House could say any more, Wilson appeared at the doorway, oblivious to the conversation between the pair. "Okay, so this is it. You ready?"

Facing away from Wilson, House frowned at Cuddy and turned the wheelchair around to face Wilson. "Yep." Without looking back, House called out, "What, aren't you going to wish me luck?"

"Why? You don't plan on dying today," Cuddy spat, instantly feeling foolish. She watched as the pair disappeared down the hall, and as much as she wanted to run after him and apologize, she remained rooted to the spot.

_______

Wilson appeared at Cuddy's office a couple of hours later, carrying two cups of coffee and a tired grin. He offered her one as he took a seat. "I thought we should celebrate."

"What, no champagne?" she asked with a smile.

"I think the hospital administrator would have me fired for drinking on the job."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, nodding. "Probably." She took a long sip. "So, how is he?"

Wilson set his untouched cup down before running his hand through his hair. Cuddy noted how unkempt he looked. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair tousled, and it was obvious he hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior.

"First dose is in. His BP plummeted but he stabilized fairly quickly. It's a waiting game, right now." Wilson debated whether or not to broach the subject of that morning before deciding he couldn't just let it be. "So, House told you he's not planning on dying today? That's always a good thing."

Cuddy set her coffee cup down and leaned forward. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"But, he shouldn't have left without saying anything to Mia."

Wilson's eyes widened and his cheeks suddenly flushed a pinkish hue. "That wasn't his fault."

Furrowing her brow, Cuddy leaned back in her chair, wondering if Wilson was about to cover for House or if there was something more to it. "Go on."

"When I picked him up this morning, his pain was at an eight." Wilson shifted in his seat. "I gave him a mild sedative, just to make him more comfortable. He wasn't awake enough to say goodbye to Mia."

Cuddy sighed, feeling guiltier than ever at her own behavior. "She woke up and he was gone. I thought he'd…."

"I'm sorry, I was just-"

"You were just concerned about his pain and about getting him here. No, don't be sorry. It's not your fault. If I didn't have that international conference call so early, I would have been there."

Before Wilson could say another word, his pager jumped to life, beeping loudly, while Cuddy's phone rang simultaneously.

"How long?" Cuddy asked as she pushed her chair back and stood. She paled as she listened, while waving her hand at Wilson to wait for her. Hanging up the phone with a loud bang, she rounded the desk and caught up to Wilson, who held the door open for her.

With terrified eyes, she looked up at him and despite all of her years in the medical profession, panic set in.

"He seized several times and then stopped breathing," she said, winded, as they ran towards the stairwell. "I should have been there," she whispered.

_______


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks for all the reviews and for reading! One or two chapters left after this one and that's it!

Ch. 26

Wilson got to the room first. Cuddy was still half a flight of stairs behind by the time he pulled to an abrupt halt at the threshold to House's room. What he saw before him made his heart skip a beat and left him feeling nauseous. There, in the private hospital room, a gathering of nurses and one of his fellow oncologists swarmed about House, trying to resuscitate him. Wilson watched helplessly as he lived his worst nightmare. House's chest rose up from the table before falling to silence.

Wilson knew House's wishes. He knew his friend wanted no extreme measures taken, but despite knowing this, Wilson paused just for a moment, hoping. Unable to deny House the right to die on his own terms, Wilson charged in with voice booming and hands held high to garner attention.

"STOP!"

The only sounds were of the heart monitor flat-lining and the long, drawn out beep of the paddles recharging, which were held above House's chest in the hands of Dr. Dodds.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Wilson shouted as Cuddy appeared at the door. She instantly paled at the scene in front of her.

Cuddy channeled her shock and outrage into her best administrator persona, taking her place between House and Wilson. "Dr. House has a D.N.R."

Dr. Dodds' eyes widened with the news. He stepped back, lowered the paddles and passed them to a nearby nurse, who turned off the machine.

"Get out," Wilson snarled.

"I'm so sorry," Dr. Dodds said as he followed the last nurse out of the room.

Cuddy's shoulders dropped the moment the door closed. She stepped closer to House's bedside and gently closed his hospital gown. His face was gaunt and twisted as if in pain.

"He never wanted this," she said.

"No."

Wilson kicked the bottom of a nearby cabinet. Holding her tongue, Cuddy watched Wilson out of the corner of her eye as she sat in the bedside chair.

The heart monitor jumped to life, defiantly. Scrambling, Cuddy instantly began calling House's name as Wilson checked the monitors. Though he had been adamant that House's wishes be carried out, he was grateful that House was being as stubborn as ever.

_______

Mia's shoulders shook, tears streaked her face and she gasped occasionally, as she often did when she cried uncontrollably. Cuddy sat with her arms wrapped around her, in the waiting room of the ICU. Wilson sat with the still comatose House.

Mia spoke in halting sobs, unable to hide her fear. "But…I'm not ready for him…to go."

Cuddy methodically rubbed Mia's back, placed a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead and dabbed at her own tears with a tissue. "It's not up to us, sweetie."

"I haven't said goodbye."

Cuddy closed her eyes, rested her head on top of Mia's and willed herself to keep from sinking into the same choking tears. She could easily let go and cry the day away if she'd allow herself, but she wouldn't. She couldn't.

"None of us have. We don't know what may happen, but you know what he wanted. He doesn't want to be in pain anymore and we have to respect that. We don't want him to hurt, do we?"

Mia shook her head before burying her nose in her mom's shoulder.

"Of course not," Cuddy said soothingly. "He knows you love him and you know he loves you more than anything."

Mia sobbed even harder.

_______

Two days passed and Cuddy found herself sitting, once again, at House's bedside. She knew Wilson monitored House meticulously, but she found comfort in doing a routine diagnostic check every time she visited House. It was quiet sitting there, and one-sided conversations were the norm; he had not yet come out of his coma.

Days were very quiet in her hospital. She spent the mornings in her office, conducting business, meeting with donors, and managing the various crises that seemed to pop up daily. At lunch, she ate with Wilson in House's room, balancing lunch trays precariously on his bed. Wilson insisted eating in a coma patient's room was House's time honored tradition and that they should maintain it.

After lunch, she'd return to her office. At 4 p.m., if no pressing matters required her attention, she would return to House's room and sit with him until Mia arrived.

Shelby had volunteered to take Mia to and from school every day. Afterwards, she would sit with House for an hour or two in the mornings, while Wilson completed his rounds. House's team checked in on him, too. And if a member of his team was on call during the night, they would drop in to check on him and occasionally sit with him.

_______

"I want to do something for House," Cuddy said one day at lunch. They sat in chairs next to House's bed, Cuddy with her feet on the edge of the bed, and Wilson with his feet tucked beneath his chair. From the inside pocket of her lab coat, Cuddy withdrew a pamphlet.

"I've been thinking about that, too." Wilson thumbed through the marked pamphlet and nodded slowly. "How long have you been thinking about this?" He paused, flipping between two images in the brochure. "I like the name plaque in the etched glass, but the cherry wood is nice, too."

"I had planned it for his retirement, but…." she shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. I want to name the Diagnostics Wing after him and I'd like to do it before he…." Cuddy paused, not wanting to voice the possibility of House's death. "The fundraiser just seems appropriate."

The pair sat in silence as Wilson continued to look through the brochure. "He'd hate the fundraiser." Wilson donned a sad smile as he looked at his friend, lying so still. "He's probably glad he doesn't have to go."

Unable to look Wilson in the eye, Cuddy busied herself with cleaning up after her lunch. She chuckled half-heartedly. "Can't you just imagine what we'd have to listen to if…." she stopped abruptly when she realized what she was saying.

"No, you're right. He'd be impossible to live with. He'd gloat and use it as an excuse for some crazy something or other in his department. We'd never hear the end of it.," Wilson rolled his eyes. "Greg House Department of Diagnostics. The next thing he'll want is to rename the whole hospital." Wilson gently backhanded House's shoulder. "You hear that, House? Don't go getting any big ideas."

"He'd probably want it carved out in marble," she said, smiling.

"With gold guitar accents!" Wilson laughed.

________

Another day passed, and again Cuddy found herself sitting in the cafeteria with Wilson, both picking at half-uneaten salads. The night prior had been a difficult one. House's oxygen levels had dipped. Momentarily, Cuddy had a ray of hope when his eyes fluttered shortly before the drop in oxygen level, but both she and Wilson had later determined that it was not a sign of waking.

"Have you thought about it?" Wilson asked, just above a whisper.

"I know I need to make the arrangements, but I've been busy."

Wilson drained the last of his third cup of coffee that day. "He wants to be cremated and despite him saying that he wants his ashes spread over the monster truck arena, I think a traditional burial would be more appropriate."

"Okay," she said with the flicker of a smile.

"I can call and make arrangements if you need me to."

"Thanks, Wilson."

_______

Cuddy paused at the front door to her house. She could hear Mia crying from within. With a stitch in her chest and fearing that dreaded phone call that Mia had possibly intercepted as she was on her way home from work, Cuddy entered.

Mia was kneeling on the floor with her back facing Cuddy; she was sobbing uncontrollably. Cuddy dropped her bag and rushed to Mia's side.

"Hey, shhhh," Cuddy said, as she approached Mia.

She stopped as her own sorrow took hold at the sight before her. Red, Mia's beloved poodle, given to her by House so many years earlier, was curled up, unmoving.

"Oh, Mia," Cuddy said, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

Cuddy led her to the couch, gave her a few tissues, and as Mia composed herself, Cuddy placed a towel over Red and placed her in a cardboard box. She set the box near the front door. Exhausted, Cuddy sat next to Mia, kicked off her heels, and placed her feet on the coffee table.

"She wasn't sick. Right?"

"I don't think so, sweetie, but she wasn't a young dog, either. I'll take her to the vet in little while."

"What are they going to do with her?" Mia looked at Cuddy with fear in her eyes. "I know what happens to dead pets at vet offices. They're used for research. I don't want that for Red."

Cuddy hugged Mia tightly. "We can have her cremated, okay? No one will use her body for anything, I promise."

Mia visibly relaxed. "Dad gave her to me, you know."

"I know."

"It's not fair. I thought at least I'd have her when he...." Mia paused, unable to finish her thought. "Everyone else is thinking about prom and vacation. All I think about is Dad and if today is the last day I'll ever see him, or if he'll die when I'm not there." Mia leaned into her mom. "Everyone I love is leaving me."

"That's not true; it just feels that way."

"When does it stop hurting?"

"I don't know, Mia."

_______

She was surprised at how much losing a little dog she never wanted in the first place actually hurt. Arranging for Red to be cremated took much less time than she'd anticipated, and deciding that Mia would be fine for a little while longer, Cuddy found herself at House's bedside. She knew, just as Mia did, that Red was more than just a dog. She was a part of the connection House and Mia shared. Maybe it was for this reason or maybe the reason was an excuse to sit with him all to herself in the quiet of the evening. Regardless, she found an odd sense of comfort being in House's room that night.

"Red died today," she said, more to herself than to House. She'd barely whispered it.

Not wanting to leave just yet, she grabbed a wash cloth from the cabinet, wet it, and gently cleaned House's face and neck. The action reminded her of daily sponge baths Mia received when she was in the hospital as an infant.

"Just promise me something," she said, smiling. "Don't you dare buy another dog."

Another thought flickered momentarily, causing her smile to fade. Cuddy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Take care of Red, okay?"

_______

The next afternoon, the door to Wilson's office flew open with a slam, startling Wilson awake. He nearly fell off of the couch. Eyes wide in an attempt to appear somewhat awake, Wilson jumped up.

"Nurse Richards, what is it?"

"You didn't answer your pager, your cell phone, or your home phone. I didn't mean to startle you."

Groggily, Wilson waved his hand. "No, no. It's fine. What is it?"

"It's Dr. House. He opened his eyes about an hour ago. Dr. Foreman's in there with him now, running neuro-checks."

With that news, Wilson grabbed his lab coat and followed Nurse Richards. "Did you page Dr. Cuddy?"

"We did, but she hasn't answered yet. I believe she went home around two this morning. She was with him until she left."

Wilson pulled out his cell phone, dialed Cuddy, and sent a text. "House 911".

_______


	27. Chapter 27

No, your eyes do not deceive you! Yes, this is actually chapter 27 of Theirs! I'm sorry it's been nearly a year. Writer's block sucks. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to Chippers87 and Wrytingtyme for being such amazing, quick, and very generous betas! Sorry, haven't used in a long time...forgot the line breaks!

* * *

I just saw him last night, no this morning. He was stable, breathing easy. He looked relaxed. Too relaxed, maybe. Peaceful. Oh god, peaceful. Cuddy's mind ran wild as she made her way to House's hospital room. Wilson's 911 text sent her into a panic, and with two missed phone calls from staff, she thought for certain the end was near.

The halls were so familiar to her, that the path became invisible, forgettable. A few minutes of her life disappeared as she hurried down the hall. Cuddy realized she couldn't remember that short span between walking in the front door of Princeton Plainsboro and walking into House's room. The path was so familiar, so ingrained, that the route itself and that moment in time had vanished. She briefly wondered how many other moments she'd lost to those halls.

Cuddy didn't try to don her hospital administrator persona as she entered. She couldn't. Just like that short span of her life that had disappeared, so had her ability to put on a brave face. She was tired of being strong, tired of being the one to hold everything together.

A vacation. As her mind whirred at the mind-boggling sight before her, she daydreamed of a vacation, on a beach, or a cruise, maybe a cabin somewhere quiet. Serene was good. Very good. Peaceful, just as House looked at that moment. And Cuddy felt peace, too. She smiled, more with her eyes than with her mouth. Relief washed over her.

It was then she decided she wanted to hit him. Hard. And that thought made her laugh; the absurdity of wanting to slug such a frail man made her snort. That snort quickly turned into a snicker, but she couldn't contain it. The giggling was short lived because just as soon as it started, she began heaving great, big, uncontrollable laughs and she couldn't stop. She sat in the corner chair, very much aware of Wilson's, House's and Foreman's eyes upon her, watching her as she completely lost it. And that made her laugh even more.

Foreman looked bewildered, Wilson's eyes were sympathetic, and House was unreadable. She couldn't look at them, even if she wanted to she couldn't. She didn't try to stop the tears, she knew they were coming and Cuddy was powerless against them. She gagged and sputtered, swiped at her eyes occasionally, and when the laughing subsided and the crying took over, she sat with her head as close to her knees as possible, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

Cuddy wasn't sure exactly when Foreman had left, but she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and knew it was Wilson, standing behind her.

He handed a box of tissues to Cuddy. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You're wheezing. Sure you're okay?"

She nodded again.

Wilson ran a hand through his graying, flop of hair. "He's awake. "

"Thanks," she said, without looking up.

He quietly left the room and once the door was shut, Cuddy finally looked at House. She stayed seated, embarrassed by her outburst. He looked pale and worn. Cuddy pulled the chair to his bedside, sat down beside him, and placed her hand on top of his.

She looked at him, sure that he would have made a snide comment about her hysterical fit, if he could have. That tart comment was there, somewhere, just under his breath and just outside of earshot, but it was there.

"Just shut up," she said.

* * *

Wilson stood with his hands on his hips, poised to win an argument with House, despite his friend's reluctance to speak.

"Yes, rehab," Wilson said. "Thirty minutes a day isn't bad."

House shook his head while giving Wilson the evil eye.

"We could always admit you to a rehab facility, if you like." Wilson said, a wry smile forming.

House raised an eyebrow, followed quickly by a middle finger.

"Nice," Wilson said. "Good to see you near death experience hasn't diminished your attitude at all."

Wilson tied House's shoes and attempted to adjust the collar on his jacket, but was swiftly smacked on his hand.

"Fine. Tie your own shoes, then."

"Can't walk," House said, tapping his shoes with his cane.

"Ho! He speaks!" Wilson sat next to House.

"You try talking after being intubated."

"That was over a week ago."

Wilson collected the various cards and gifts and placed them into a worn out duffle bag. House sat motionless on the bed, staring at one of the footrests on the wheelchair.

"Cancer will be back," House said.

"You don't know that."

"One percent survival rate."

"Who says you can't be part of-?"

"I'm not one of your patients."

"You know the odds just as well as I do. You also know that sometimes, people just get lucky."

House tapped the wheelchair with his cane and motioned for Wilson to help him into it. Once he was seated, and slightly out of breath, House placed his cane across his lap. Wilson began to push the chair, but House mumbled something he couldn't hear. Wilson stopped, walked around to the front so that he could face House and waited for him to repeat what he said.

"You're losing your hearing."

"What?" Wilson said, tilting his left ear slightly towards House.

"I said, you're losing your hearing," House said more loudly.

Wilson grinned, House groaned.

Wilson waited for House to repeat what he said and when he didn't, Wilson felt guilty. Whatever it was that House had said was something he clearly wasn't about to shout at the top of his lungs.

Wilson began pushing House again and leaned down to say something that only House would hear. It was a truth offered in a hushed voice. "I am losing my hearing."

House leaned his head back, angling to look up at Wilson. "I know."

Wilson's brow furrowed. "How? When?"

House turned around, finding the angle of looking up and back to be uncomfortable. He shrugged. "It's been gradual. Welcome to old age. It sucks."

Wilson had hoped that given the small truth he had offered, House would repeat his own hushed truth. So he waited. They walked past the nurse's station and Wilson gave the nurses a warm wave, which was followed by a sneer from House. By the time they reached the elevator, Wilson had given up hope that House would repeat what he had said.

Once inside, Wilson punched the lobby button and both waited in silence. Normally, he hated riding in elevators because of the awkward silences or cursory greetings in such a small, shared space, but it was different with House. No need for words, yet no awkward silence, either. As the toe of his shoe tapped the decorative baseboard in the elevator, as he'd done countless times before, Wilson began to wonder how many times he'd been in that very elevator. Too many times to count, he thought.

"I'm done with treatment," House said.

Having witnessed so many patients make definitive decisions about possibly unnecessary cancer treatment, Wilson hoped House wouldn't hold true to that decision. He knew House was stubborn, though, particularly about his own health. Wilson also knew that House was placating him. House had only told a half-truth.

"I know," Wilson said, as he pushed House towards the lobby.

* * *

House rolled his eyes as they approached the group. Cuddy, Mia, members of his team, and a few other staff members stood in the lobby waiting to see House off.

"Hi," Mia said, stepping up to the wheelchair first. She looked at Wilson. "Are you sure it's safe for him to come home?"

"Safer for him there. The nurses have a hit out on him."

Mia smiled as she turned her attention to House. "Good."

"Good?" House asked.

"Good you can come home. So, can I get a new puppy, now?"

"Mia," Cuddy said, warningly.

"What?"

"We can talk about that later."

Mia turned towards House. "You know what that means," she said with a frown. "Talking about it later means she'll say no."

"We'll talk later," House said.

"Great, now both of you will say no."

"Mia, this isn't the time," Cuddy said.

Mia crossed her arms and walked towards the front doors in a huff. As Wilson began pushing the wheelchair again, several of his team members wished House well. By the time they reached the car, House was worn out and slept the entire ride home.

* * *

"The cancer's really gone?" Mia asked House, several days later. She had wanted to broach the subject with him, but he had slept most of the first few days once he arrived home. When he wasn't sleeping, he sat in his wheelchair or occasionally on the couch, but only when Wilson was there to help him back into the wheelchair.

She was so happy to have him home, but still worried. He was certainly not the same House as he had been before the cancer. He didn't talk much, he slept a lot, his hair was patchy, having lost most of it during his treatment, he was gaunt, and the thing that bothered Mia most was that his skin was paper-thin. He bruised easily, which resulted in black-and-blue marks all over his arms, including one on his cheek, where she had kissed him with a little too much excitement on his first day home.

Mia had asked her mom how long it would be before he'd be back to normal and to her dismay, her mom had said that he would probably never be quite like the House they used to know. Mia hoped her mom was wrong.

"Can we talk about the puppy, now?"

"You're not getting one," House said.

"Why not?"

House motioned for Mia to sit across from him, on the coffee table. "You want to go to college in California, right?"

Mia nodded. "UC Davis has the veterinary program I want to go to."

"And what happens to the dog then?"

Mia sighed. "I don't know. Mom's here."

"Exactly."

Mia was confused. "So, if mom's here, I don't understand-"

"Because the puppy wouldn't be your dog, would it?"

Mia leaned in a little closer, a slow smile beginning to form. "So, are you getting Mom a puppy?"

House picked up the old school bell perched next to Mia on the table and gave it a ring. Wilson stepped out of the kitchen, clad in a red-checked apron.

"Need help back in the chair?" Wilson asked. House closed his eyes and nodded slightly. "Just a minute, let me wash up," Wilson said, holding up his flour dusted hands.

House turned his attention back to Mia. "If you're away at college, and if I go back to my apartment-"

"Wait, why are you going back to your apartment? You live here, now."

"I live here because I was too sick to live alone."

"But, you're not ready to go, yet."

"I will be."

"But, I thought…."

"I can't stay forever, Mia."

Just then, Wilson returned from the kitchen and Mia stood out of the way as she watched him help House back into the wheelchair. How he would ever be strong enough to live on his own, she didn't know, but suddenly, Mia wished they weren't getting a new puppy.

* * *

"You're scaring her," Wilson said, as he helped House stand from the chair.

"Wouldn't want to get her hopes up."

"You're not dying, House."

"Not yet."

"Is that what you want?" Wilson asked. Wilson closed the bedroom door and began to pace. "That's it, isn't it? You thought you were going to die." Wilson continued to pace. "No, no that's not it. You wanted to die."

Wilson stopped and looked at House. "That's it, isn't it?"

House leaned back, slowly easing his legs onto the bed. "I'm tired."

"I'm tired, too. And Cuddy. And even Mia. You've been through hell, I'm not denying that, but so has your family."

House closed his eyes, genuinely tired, though he certainly had no desire to get into this conversation, either.

Wilson opened his mouth to remind House about those who loved him, but found he didn't have the energy. He was genuinely tired, too.

"I can't do this." He shook his head, turned on his heel, and left.


	28. Chapter 28

Thanks for reading and reviewing! And thanks to Wrytingtyme for fixing this mess of a chapter not once, but twice! Awesomest beta ever. And yes, I just used "awesomest". :)

Ch. 28

* * *

Wilson stood at the threshold to House's room as he took in the sight before him. House had refused therapy and when Wilson tried to talk some sense into him, a bitter argument ensued, which left Mia in tears, Cuddy retreating to Mia's room to console her, and with Wilson walking out. Once home, Wilson crawled into bed and tried to relax. That's when he realized House would probably try to do the same thing without any help. Wilson couldn't lie there, knowing that Cuddy and Mia were together upstairs in Mia's room, while House was alone.

Wilson raced back to Cuddy's place, his guilt beginning to overwhelm him. He'd known before the argument started that House would balk at therapy and that the argument was inevitable. He shouldn't have allowed things to escalate to the point that even Mia had gotten caught up in the argument as she tried to defend Wilson's reasoning, which resulted in House yelling at Mia. Total chaos erupted when Cuddy tried to quell the situation and when House snarled at her about being a doctor and knowing what he needed for himself, that's when Wilson lost it. His exact words were a blur. All he could remember was Mia shrieking as she ran to her room and House yelling something indecipherable. Angry with not only House's stubborn will, but also with his own outburst, Wilson had charged out the front door, slamming it on his way out.

And just as he had imagined, there was House, sprawled on the floor. Wilson crouched down and placed a hand on House's shoulder.

"House," Wilson said.

House turned his head to look at Wilson, frowning slightly. "Thought you'd never show up."

"Anything broken?" Wilson asked.

"No." House paused with a slight grin. "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up."

Wilson snorted as he helped House first into the chair and then from the chair to the bed. He gently lifted House's legs and placed them under the covers. Once House was settled, Wilson took a seat in the wheelchair.

A few minutes passed in silence as House relaxed and Wilson waited for his own heart to stop racing. He tried to appear as calm as possible, but he couldn't deny that the situation had been stressful. It had certainly raised his blood pressure and Wilson imagined if he was feeling that much stress, likely House was, too.

"So, you tried to transfer from your wheelchair to the bed by yourself," Wilson lowered his head. "and I suppose you did that about two hours ago."

House raised his eyebrows, impressed with Wilson's astuteness. "I would have been fine if the brake had been set on the chair."

"I'm sorry," Wilson said.

"Yeah," House whispered as sleep began to take hold. He settled into the bed, turning his back towards Wilson. "I'll go to therapy." He yawned, closed his eyes, and mumbled, "But only because I can't have your old bones lifting on me all the time."

That was the only apology Wilson would get. And he would take it. "I'm going home. Don't do anything stupid before Cuddy's back downstairs, okay?"

"Mmmhmmm."

Wilson watched House fall into a deep sleep before he got up to leave. He scribbled a quick note to let Cuddy know he'd helped House back to bed and that he'd gone home for the night and then he left it at the bottom of the stairs, where either Cuddy or Mia would be sure to see it. He wondered if their lives would ever have any semblance of normalcy again as he got into his car and he chuckled to himself as he thought about how life with House never had that to begin with.

A short while later, Cuddy found the note from Wilson. She knew he'd return, which was part of the reason she'd stayed upstairs in Mia's room, to give them space. She never learned exactly what happened that afternoon. She suspected they were hiding something from her when the only explanation she received was that House agreed to go to rehab.

* * *

A month of therapy passed quickly and House had progressed to the point of being able to use a walker. He still refused to leave the comfort and safety of home for anything other than rehab, which left him with little more to do than sleep during the day. He'd watch television, fix a sandwich now that he could stand long enough to make one, and once in a great while, he'd shower.

It was pure bliss to shower alone. He'd actually forgotten what it was like to enjoy the privacy of a closed bathroom door. He knew Cuddy stood just outside when she was home, but he didn't care. He had enjoyed it so much, that three times in the last week, he decided he could shower while Cuddy was at work. It was a momentous effort to get the shower chair into the shower by himself, even more difficult to ease himself into it once the shower head was turned on, and it was nearly impossible to step out and dress himself once he was finished. But for the time he was seated in the shower, under the warm water, without a nurse or even Cuddy looking over his shoulder or giving him a hated sponge bath, it was worth every ounce of exhaustion.

House quickly grew tired of the morning talk shows on television and with the same, old characters on his favorite soap, though he watched that anyway. Occasionally he'd do his exercises, but only when he was alone. He hated to turn around to find Mia watching him with that look. Cuddy got that look, too, though she was better at hiding it. But the worst one of them all was Wilson. House saw it in his tired eyes. He knew Wilson had watched him deteriorate, watched him turn into one of his sickly cancer patients, but House had watched Wilson grow old; he watched the fine lines around Wilson's eyes grow deep. And he felt guilty.

Sleeping so much during the day inevitably led to long, quiet, and sleepless nights. In the beginning, House had stayed in his room during the middle of the night, mostly due to his inability to use the walker in the dark. He was stronger now and for the past week, he'd been able to maneuver the walker in the dark so that he could watch television, on mute, in the family room.

Three nights prior, House clearly heard Cuddy in the midst of a nightmare. By the time he'd gotten to her room, she was sleeping peacefully. The next night, he heard her again and made a mental note of the time. On the third night, he'd positioned himself at her door around the same time the nightmare had started before, and he waited. He stood until he felt too weak to stand any longer and then retreated to the family room. Half an hour later, he again heard Cuddy in the throes of a nightmare and managed to get to her bedroom door shortly before the nightmare was over. He watched her toss and turn, trying to catch what she was mumbling, but as he approached her bed, he realized that her mumblings were only decipherable from deep within her dream.

House decided to change tactics. The next night, he waited for Cuddy to fall asleep. When he thought she was finally in a deep sleep, he crept into her room and crawled into bed beside her, and waited. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

House woke to an agitated Cuddy in the midst of a nightmare. He was reminded of a young Mia, who dreamed of the non-existent monsters in her closet, except she would wake up screaming and in tears. Cuddy shook her head, grumbled something, and turned restlessly.

"Hey," he said, giving her a gentle shake. "Cuddy, wake up."

He rubbed her arm and continued to call her name until she opened her eyes. She looked at him, slightly stunned, and then lightly traced his jaw line with her finger tips.

"You're here," she said. "I…I thought…."

"You had a nightmare."

She visibly relaxed as reality set in. She kept her hand near his face, occasionally tracing an eyebrow or a wrinkle. She needed to touch him; she needed the proof that it was actually him.

Tears streaked her face and House pulled her into a hug. "There's Ambien in the medicine cabinet," he said.

Cuddy shook her head. She stared at his nose, then his eyebrow, so thankful that the dream wasn't real. "Don't leave me," she whispered.

House sighed, settled into the pillows and pulled her in close. He acted like it was an imposition, but he had no desire to go anywhere.

Cuddy mumbled something he couldn't make out. "Huh?"

"Every night," she yawned, "I'd wake up and hoped you'd be here." She smiled a sleepy, teary smile. "I waited for so long."

House kissed her forehead and shushed her. Both were asleep moments later.

* * *

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Cuddy asked, as she poured House a cup of coffee. Nearly a month had gone by since that first night back in her room. He'd slept there since, except for the rare night when he'd overworked himself during therapy, resulting in a night spent pacing and doing everything in his power to avoid taking an extra Vicodin.

"I can drop her off and then come back to get you before your therapy appointment."

He gave her an annoyed glance as he stood from his chair. Using the walker, he crossed the kitchen to grab a cookie from the jar on the counter. Cuddy knew better than to fetch it for him; he needed to work the muscles in his legs. He used the cane while at the hospital. The walker was fine at home, where no prying eyes could watch him, but when at the hospital, Cuddy knew the cane was a source of pride for him. He pushed himself to use it from the first day of therapy. Walking with the cane was his personal goa; the therapist would have been satisfied with the use of a walker. It was a small piece of his old life that he had to take back from cancer.

"Not stopping anywhere else?" House asked.

"No."

"Yeah," he said, stuffing a cookie in his mouth. "I'll go."

It was the first time House had volunteered to go anywhere other than therapy. Cuddy was thrilled.

* * *

Cuddy pulled the minivan up to the front of the school and Mia got out. She leaned into the passenger side window and placed a quick peck on House's cheek. "Bye, Dad." He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Mia!" A young and very cute classmate of Mia's called out from the blue sedan behind Cuddy's minivan.

"Hi Jake!"

Cuddy fumbled with her purse, scribbled a quick check, and chased after Mia, waving her hand and calling her name. She had to pause as one of her heels sank in the wet grass.

"Here," she said, when Mia approached. "It's the tuition. Don't forget to hand it in, today's the last day before they charge the late fee."

"I won't forget, Mom."

"Help me," Cuddy said, taking hold of Mia's arm so she could bend down to free her shoe from the grass. From the front seat, House whistled at Cuddy the moment she bent down.

Jake, looked confused. "Did your uncle just, you know, like say your mom was hot?"

Mia turned bright red. She marched up to House's window and leaned in. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Who's the guy?" House asked.

Jake approached the minivan as Cuddy got back into the driver's seat. Mia shot House a warning with a shake of the head and the fiercest death-glare she could manage.

"Hi," Jake said, extending a hand. "I'm Jake."

"Jake," Mia said, "This is my dad, Doctor Greg House. Dad, this is Jake, a friend."

Jake held his hand out for a moment longer before dropping it to his side, upon realizing House had no intention of shaking it.

"I thought he was your uncle?" Jake asked.

Mia glared at House. "It's complicated," she said as she turned towards school with a fistful of Jake's jacket in her hand.

"Bye, Mia," Cuddy called out before turning her attention towards House. "I love you, too, but did you have to embarrass her?"

House watched the school fade into the distance as Cuddy pulled out of the school parking lot, and he grinned.

"That's what dads do, isn't it?"


	29. Chapter 29

Here it is, the last chapter of "Theirs". Phew, it only took a couple of years! Thanks for sticking with it to those who have read this far! Many, many thanks to Wrytingtyme, Chippers87, and Lucyvanflick for being the best early-readers/betas ever.

Ch. 29

"It's Wilson's night," Cuddy called out from the bathroom.

House unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and frowned. "He'll understand."

"How often do we name a wing after one of our employees?" Cuddy said, as she leaned out of the bathroom door with a toothbrush in her hand. "He'd be there for you," she paused just long enough, "he has been there for you."

House rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Put your bow tie back on," she said. Cuddy knew she had him. She smirked, put the toothbrush in her mouth and disappeared into the bathroom as she heaved a great sigh of relief. The whole ceremony hinged on House's appearance. The notion of Wilson being honored was a ruse.

House picked up his cane and gently stood from his position on the edge of the bed. He dusted his shoulder while looking in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. He didn't look half bad for an old man, he thought.

Mia knocked on the door before she entered the bedroom. She smiled brightly.

"You look hot, Dad."

"Yeah, I do, don't I?" House turned to look at Mia and raised an eyebrow. "What are you wearing?"

Mia looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong with the way I look?" Mia rushed to the mirror and looked up and down at her baby blue gown. Rhinestones lined the double spaghetti straps that draped her shoulders and smaller, sparkly flecks dotted her entire gown. Her hair was pulled half-up, half-down and she was thrilled her hair was finally long enough for it.

"I thought I looked nice."

With a sigh, House sat on the edge of the bed as he shook his head. "You do. I meant why are you wearing it?"

Cuddy emerged from the bathroom, clad in a sleek black dress with her now shoulder-length hair styled in luxurious waves. She looked radiant.

"Wow," House whispered.

"Oh, Mom!"

Cuddy blushed as she helped to straighten House's bow tie. "You both look great, too."

"So is anyone going to explain why someone who doesn't work at the hospital is going to this fundraiser?"

"Chris will be there. I thought he might like someone else at the table who is under 40."

"Uncle Jimmy said-" Mia began.

"I don't care what Uncle Jimmy said," House said as he grabbed Cuddy's wrist so she couldn't walk away. "Chris is Wilson's son, which is why he's going."

"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked as she tried to pull free from his grasp.

"You should wear a necklace with that dress," he said.

"I was just going to get one."

House pulled a small box from the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. "I meant you should wear this one."

Cuddy stared at him in, shocked. "House, I don't know what to say." She opened the box and her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

She looked up at him in disbelief and shook her head. "We don't give each other gifts. I don't have anything for you."

"I wasn't expecting anything. Don't get all mushy on me, or I'll take it back."

Cuddy squeezed his hand. "Help me put it on," she said as she handed the chain to him.

"Where's your necklace?" House asked, looking at Mia.

"I forgot," Mia said, as she turned and ran towards her room. She knew exactly which one she'd wear, the one Cuddy had given her two years earlier, for her birthday.

Cuddy admired her silver necklace in the mirror, with its three strands of diamonds that hung vertically from the chain. She turned back towards House and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you."

House smiled and leaned down for a kiss.

Mia stood at the doorway. "Should I come back later?"

"Come here," House said.

Mia touched the pendant she wore and looked at it in the mirror. "Is this okay?"

"No."

Mia's shoulders dropped. "First you don't like my dress and now my necklace?"

House frowned. "Never said I didn't like your dress."

"Mia, wait," Cuddy called out, as Mia headed towards the hall. "Come back here."

"What?"

"House and I have something to tell you."

Mia looked nervously between the pair. Her heart quickened as her mind raced with the possibilities. She wondered if his cancer had come back or if there was something wrong with her mom, now. She wasn't sure she could handle much more.

"What's wrong?" she asked, the fear in her voice evident.

Cuddy wrapped an arm around her and led her daughter towards the edge of the bed. They sat down beside House, sandwiching Mia between them.

"Nothing is wrong," Cuddy said. "We just wanted to tell you something we should have told you a long time ago."

Mia glanced towards the right and then the left, and relief washed over her. She knew exactly what they were about to say and it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"A long time ago," Cuddy began,

"In a galaxy far, far away," House quipped.

Cuddy shot House a look of warning, but continued. "House and I made a decision."

Mia looked up at House, her eyes growing moist.

Cuddy continued. "I was so afraid of what might happen to you if something ever happened to me, so I asked the one other person who has been in your life since we first met. The only other person who loves you as much as I do."

Mia reached for House's hand and wrapped her fingers in his. This was the moment she'd waited for and she intended to soak in every last word. House watched Cuddy as she spoke, Cuddy watched Mia, and Mia stared at House.

"House isn't just your Dad because you call him your Dad," Cuddy said. "He's-"

"He's my real Dad. He's mine. And I'm his," Mia blurt out, unable to control her anticipation. "And he's been my real Dad since before I can remember."

House raised his eyebrows, as a corner of his mouth turned up.

"How did you know?" Cuddy asked.

Mia dropped her gaze and pursed her lips before looking at her mom. "I saw the adoption paperwork a while ago." She shrugged. "I always had this feeling and then I heard things and put two and two together. I had to know, so when you were out, I went digging for it."

Mia paused, taking the time to look at both of her parents. She focused on House as she asked her next question. "Are you angry?"

He stared her down, giving her his most stern look. Mia stifled the urge to cry just as House broke into a smile.

"No," he said.

Mia grinned broadly and turned to look at Cuddy. "Are you?"

Initially, Cuddy's gut reaction was one of disappointment, but as she thought about all that had happened in the months prior, and she began to feel guilty. Never had she been more thankful that House was there to break this news to Mia. She couldn't imagine how she would have told her if they'd lost him.

"I'm only sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay," Mia said, again focusing her gaze on House. "It's true, isn't it? It's really true."

"Here," House said, holding out another small box. As she took it from him, House stood from the bed. "We're going to be late."

Cuddy looked up at him, as he towered above them. "What do you care if we'll be late or not?"

"Cripple. I need a seat."

Cuddy looked at him suspiciously, but relented. Maybe the conversation had been too much for him to take. "It's assigned seating. You've got a seat up front with your name on it."

Mia opened the box and began to cry. She stood up quickly, and hugged House. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, hugging her back.

"I love you, Dad," Mia said, grinning at the official meaning of the word.

"Love you, too. Now go on, get," he said, pointing towards the door with his cane.

"I'll be at the car," Mia said as she briefly showed Cuddy the locket in the small box. Mia removed the necklace she had on as she walked out of sight.

"Is a locket lame?" House said it so quietly that Cuddy could hardly hear him.

She smiled and shook her head. "It was perfect."

Cuddy grabbed her shawl, kissed House and exhaled, glad the secret she'd held for so long was now out in the open.

"It was the locket you bought for her when she was just a baby, wasn't it?"

House shrugged. "30 day return policy. I bought it over a decade ago."

Cuddy held his hand and reached up for one last kiss before stepping outside.

"You're a good Dad, House."

* * *

The main lobby of the hospital had been transformed into a banquet hall. On the far side against the wall, stood a row of rectangular tables, which held numerous items for the silent auction. On the other side of the room stood a row of buffet tables, and in the middle were a host of circular tables, all covered in white linen. A low-profile bouquet of purple flowers sat in the middle of each table, and six white plates were positioned around them with silver chargers beneath.

The elevator lobby was masked by an impressive figure, draped in a gray cover. It stood on a wooden platform, with a microphone stand, a podium, and three chairs off to one side. Large groups of purple balloons dotted the lobby around the perimeter, including one on the mock-stage.

Mia skipped ahead and found her seat. As she expected, she was placed right next to her cousin, Chris. House would sit on her right, with Cuddy to his right, with Wilson next to her, followed by Shelby.

Winded by the time he arrived at the table, House pulled out his chair and was about to sit down when he turned towards Cuddy's office.

"Where are you going?" Cuddy asked, as she approached the table.

"Page me when this shindig starts. I'll be in your office," he said.

"Do I need to ask?"

"I'm fine. Go on, do the administrator thing. Go be social. Get every last penny out of the donors. I'm going to take a nap."

* * *

"Hey," Wilson said as he closed the door to Cuddy's office behind him. "Hiding out?"

House opened his eyes and swung his legs off of the couch and onto the coffee table, making room for Wilson.

"I see Mia's wearing the locket. So, you told her," Wilson said as he handed a glass of water to House.

"She already knew."

"What?"

"She's definitely my kid. She went snooping for it because she had an idea."

Wilson chuckled. "She's no dope."

House nodded. "Naming the wing after you, huh?"

Wilson looked forward, trying to go along with the ruse, willing himself not to reveal the truth. "Yeah, apparently."

"So, I guess that's why they prepped the wall near my office for a large plaque, then."

Wilson ran a hand through his hair. "You're no dope, either."

"So, was this a result of my near death experience, or did Cuddy think I'd retire early?"

Wilson looked at him and slightly shrugged. "She wanted to honor you, whether you were here or not."

"I bet the board had a field day approving that expense."

House lowered his bad leg from the coffee table and picked up his cane, readying himself to stand. He remained slightly unsteady, but he was certainly stronger than he had been.

Wilson stood up, walked around the table and held a hand out to House, who frowned, but accepted his assistance anyway.

"Actually, they helped fund the plaque."

"It's amazing what people will do for you when you're dying of cancer. Beats the hell out of pity for a cripple."

Wilson held the door open for them both. "Yeah, well don't go getting any more ideas. I plan on retiring in two years and I have no intention of coming out of retirement to treat you."

House stopped walking to look at Wilson. "It'll be back."

Wilson sighed deeply. "Maybe."

House gave him an incredulous look.

"Okay, probably, but hopefully not for many years. We'll keep a close eye on it."

House entered the main lobby and inched his way to his seat, with Wilson close behind him.

He grinned at Wilson as they sat down. "Hope is for sissies."

* * *

Cuddy stood on the platform, having just completed a raffle for a weeklong stay at a spa retreat in Bermuda. She was radiant and definitely in her element. The silent auction was going well, the raffle had garnered twice as much as she'd hoped, and the formal, sit-down dinner was excellent.

"And now for the highlight of our evening," she began as things quieted down.

"It is my distinct honor and privilege to present the highest recognition this hospital can possibly give. We are here tonight to honor a man who has devoted his life to our hospital in his ceaseless efforts to cure the sick. He has gone above and beyond the call of duty, including occasionally placing his own life at risk for the benefit of his patients." Cuddy paused, smiling at House and then at Wilson, completely unaware that her efforts of concealment had been discovered.

"Please let me introduce Doctor James Wilson."

Wilson straightened his tie as he approached the microphone, glanced around the room, and settled on the man he was there to help honor.

"This will come as no surprise to many here that the person we are about to bestow this honor to is abrasive, curt, argumentative, brash, stubborn, rude, and…"

Wilson glanced around as he spoke, waiting for the gasps or open-gaped mouths that were sure to happen with the description of House, however there were none. Instead, he noted a few nodding in agreement, a few whispers here and there, and the look of horror on Cuddy's face. And he couldn't help but grin when he saw the look on House's face as he clearly enjoyed the look on Cuddy's. His only goal had been to honor his best friend and he knew that his choice of words would do exactly that.

"…simultaneously the most brilliant physician I've ever known. He takes liberties where other doctors fall short," Wilson noted the look of relief on Cuddy's face, "He cures the seemingly incurable. And House is relentless in efforts to heal his patients. He treated and cured patients while in the midst of his own life-threatening illness. Believe it or not, he actually has a heart."

House frowned as he now stared directly at Wilson. Wilson's eyebrows stretched high, his smile widened, and his spirit was more jovial and light-hearted than House had seen in a long time. He nodded briefly at Wilson in gratitude, grateful that, at least for the moment, he was not causing Wilson any concern. House was very much aware that he had been a burden to both his friend and to Cuddy during the previous year and a momentary break from his own guilt was welcomed.

Wilson continued. "A little known fact that many of you may not be aware of," Wilson began, as he focused on Mia. "Doctor House is the father of Mia Cuddy and she would like to say a few words."

It was then that an audible gasp could be heard throughout the lobby. Mia made her way to the podium, as Wilson stood aside.

Cuddy watched House for any kind of reaction. She shook her head and smiled. "You knew."

House shrugged. "You can't keep a secret from me."

Nervously, Mia approached the microphone. "My Dad has saved thousands of lives, including mine. Many of his former patients are here tonight and I just wanted to say thank you for being here to honor my Dad." Mia looked at House and he at her. "And to my Dad, I just want to say that I know I'm the lucky one. I'm the one you chose and I'm proud to be your daughter."

The audience burst into applause as Mia swiped a tear from her cheek.

"Family, friends, former patients, and staff here at Princeton Plainsboro have put together a little video. We hope you enjoy it," Mia said.

She returned to her table, wrapped her arms around House's neck and squeezed tight as a projection screen descended from the ceiling. Mia placed a quick peck on his cheek and sat beside him.

The video began and the room quieted down as they watched photos of House, members of his team, various patients, and scenes from the hospital, through the years, on the large screen overhead. The photos were interspersed with short clips of his team thanking him for his wisdom, patients thanking him for saving their lives, and towards the end, a comical bit with a pair of lawyers thanking House for keeping them in business. It concluded with Cuddy, Wilson, Mia, Shelby, and Chris standing at the entrance to House's office. No one spoke, they simply waved.

At the end of the video, Wilson returned to the microphone and waited for the clapping to die down. He fumbled for a bit with the button on his jacket, needlessly adjusted the height of the microphone, and finally looked up at the crowd. He avoided looking directly at House.

"We didn't know if this would be a sort of memorial or if House would be here to annoy all of us," Wilson said with a half-hearted smile.

"So, it is with great honor and my utmost privilege to present this plaque, permanently naming the Department of Diagnostics at Princeton Plainsboro as the Gregory House Diagnostic Wing to the best doctor I've ever known, and the best friend I've ever had, Doctor Greg House."

As Wilson concluded his speech, Mia and Chris, pulled the drape to reveal the plaque beneath. The applauding began, and with a nudge from Cuddy, a reluctant House stood from his seat to make his way to the podium. As he approached, the members of his team and Wilson appeared on either side of him, hands held high, each with one of his own canes, held in the air to form an archway for House to pass under. One look at them and House began to chuckle.

Slowly, he made his way through the tunnel and with an assist from Chase, he stepped onto the platform. Chase released House's arm and waited to be sure he was steady before returning to his seat.

"I wasn't going to show up tonight," House began. "Wilson would have been disappointed, but he would have understood."

Wilson cocked an eyebrow and gave a half-nod.

"But, I knew this wasn't for him and I still didn't want to come."

House focused on the back of the chair at the first table instead of looking around the room at the faces there to support him. He would have seen a few puzzled looks, a few knowing looks, and a few who look disappointed, had he glanced into the crowd.

House caught Mia's eye; she looked confused and hurt by his words.

"There are a lot of people in this room who have been better to me than I deserve."

He looked around the room and finally focused on his team at the table adjacent to his own. "People who should have gone out on their own to find jobs better than this one." His team nodded. Chase put two fingers to his forehead and saluted House.

"People who," House looked at Wilson, "were insane enough to be my friend."

Wilson smiled.

House looked at Cuddy. "People who were stupid enough to love me."

Cuddy smiled.

House again looked at Mia. "People who I am proud of."

He shifted his weight, still not yet steady on his feet for extended periods of time.

"And people who had the brilliance to seek my medical advice," he said with a twinkle in his eye as he scanned the room.

"Thanks.," House said, quietly.

The room again broke out into applause as House leaned into the microphone. "Now someone help an old cripple off this thing."

Wilson shook his head, all the while smiling, stood from his seat and took hold of House's arm from underneath, steadying him by the elbow.

"That," Wilson said, eyebrows raised, "was nice."

"Didn't want to burn any bridges," House said, stepping off of the platform. "Might need these people for the next time I do something stupid."

"Well, that's a strong possibility," Wilson said.

As they approached the table, Wilson motioned for Chris and Mia to follow him. "Come on, they're cutting the cake," he said.

House walked over to Cuddy and gave her an unabashed kiss for all to see.

"Was my speech okay, Mommy?" he asked.

"Couldn't have been better," Cuddy said.

"Do I get a prize for being a good boy?"

Cuddy lowered her voice, glancing around to be sure no one else could hear her. "Remember when I said I didn't get you a gift?"

House nodded as a wry smile formed.

"I lied."

"So, whatja get me?"

She leaned in to whisper into his ear. "Monster truck porn."

"Whoa," he exhaled.

Cuddy held his hand and led him towards the cake. "Mia's spending the night at Sarah's."

"You are incredible," he leaned in, "and insatiable."

Cuddy handed him a piece of cake and smiled, knowingly. "I know."

Fin.


End file.
